December 24, 2025 • 27 mins
Christmas is magical…but for some it’s a time of stress. How can we lower the stress of this incredible holiday? To find the answer, we tell the story of how Adryana first fell in love with the Christmas tree. Those holiday pines are the source of beauty. But for Adryana, they also played a role in a family criminal endeavor.
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Episode Transcript
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Speaker 1 (00:03):
This is Red Pilled America. Some of the names in
this story have been changed to protect their privacy.
Speaker 2 (00:11):
In our household, no time is more magical than Christmas.
Speaker 1 (00:15):
You mean magically expensive.
Speaker 2 (00:18):
There's the gifts.
Speaker 1 (00:19):
It costs me an arm and a leg.
Speaker 2 (00:21):
The food is delicious.
Speaker 1 (00:23):
Somali's should just be called love handles.
Speaker 2 (00:27):
But perhaps the best part of Christmas are the decorations.
Speaker 1 (00:31):
Putting up the lights outside is backbreaking.
Speaker 2 (00:33):
Well. I absolutely love putting together a Christmas tree. I
have an exquisite collection of ornaments, and I also have
a ton of nutcrackers.
Speaker 1 (00:40):
And those nutcrackers they're given that name for a reason.
If I break another one during assembly, my wife said
she'll crack my head.
Speaker 2 (00:47):
Christmas is a magical time, but for some it can
be stressful. How can we lower the stress of Christmas?
Speaker 1 (00:57):
I'm Patrick Carelchi and.
Speaker 2 (00:59):
I'm Adriana Cortes And this.
Speaker 1 (01:01):
Is Red Pilled America. A storytelling show.
Speaker 2 (01:05):
This is not another talk show covering the day's news.
We're all about telling stories.
Speaker 1 (01:10):
Stories. Hollywood doesn't want you to hear stories.
Speaker 2 (01:13):
The media mocks stories about everyday Americans that the globalist ignore.
Speaker 1 (01:19):
You can think of red pilled America as audio documentaries,
and we promise only one thing, the truth. Welcome to
red Pilled America. How can we lower this stress of Christmas?
(01:42):
To find the answer, We're going to tell the story
of how Adriana first fell in love with the Christmas tree.
Those holiday pines are a source of beauty, but for Adriana,
they've also played a role in a family criminal endeavor.
Speaker 2 (01:56):
It was a cold December day in nineteen eighty seven,
and I couldn't believe what I was watching. Seated in
the back of my uncle sedan, looking out the rear
window as my two uncles were jaywalking across the freeway.
It was unbelievable. Sure, my people crossed the border illegally
(02:17):
every day, but the freeway was next level. My uncles
looked like the game Frogger, hopping between lanes to avoid
being squashed by oncoming traffic. I couldn't believe the agility
of those two old men. It looked like they'd almost
gotten across the freeway, but then a huge semi slammed
(02:39):
on the brakes and went sliding straight towards them. I
covered my eyes. I couldn't watch my uncles get flattened
on the freeway. As I sat there waiting to hear
the bone crushing impact, I couldn't help but think it
was all karma. Maybe they wouldn't have been roadkilled if
they hadn't just committed a felony. It's hard to believe
(03:04):
that this life threatening ordeal started with a simple question
from my uncle.
Speaker 1 (03:08):
We're going up to Big Bear to get a Christmas tree?
Do you girls want to come?
Speaker 2 (03:12):
Uncle Frank asked my cousin Kat and I. Uncle Frank
was my mom's brother and father to Cat, short for Catalina.
Kat wasn't just my cousin. She was my partner in crime,
my idol, and the undisputed queen of bad decisions with
great stories. She's my favorite cousin, which says a lot,
(03:35):
given that I have twenty seven of them on my
mother's side alone. Cat was different, six years my senior
and the black sheep of our family. She was a
masterclass in rebellion, dishing out life lessons that no school
teacher could ever dream up. Liquor before beer, You're in
the clear, She'd chant, like a sage, passing down the
(03:56):
wisdom of the ages. Kat could roll a joint so
perfect it would leave cheech and chong in all and
she was sly. She could sneak past bouncers with the
finesse of a professional con artist and still find time
to lecture me about not getting in trouble. Because beneath
her mischievous behavior, Kat was all heart. She was a
(04:19):
rule breaker, yes, but also the most fiercely loyal person
I knew. If life ever handed me a particularly dark twist,
say hypothetically I needed to dispose of a body, there
was no question who my first call would be. Cat
wouldn't just help bury the evidence. She'd bring the shovel
and a well thought out alibi. She was the poster
(04:39):
child of what today we call a ride or die.
Whenever I locked horns with my mom, which at the
time was at least twice a week, I dial Cat's number,
knowing she'd extract me from my situation. By nineteen eighty seven,
my mom and I could not exist in the same
room without an argument breaking out about what it seemed
(05:00):
like everything. But when me and Mom faced off, Cat
would swoop in like a stoned fairy godmother, throw an
arm around my shoulder, and whisk me away to safety.
That winter weekend in nineteen eighty seven was no different.
Cat and I escaped to her parents' house, my Uncle
Frank and Aunt Maria's home, which was a haven in
the madness. Uncle Frank, the unofficial elder statesman of my
(05:25):
mom's ten siblings, was the definition of cool picture a
guy who could fix a leaky faucet while humming Blue Moon,
his voice as smooth as butter. He was the kind
of laid back dude who could make anyone feel like family.
And then there was my Aunt Maria, his chain smoking
(05:45):
better half. If you opened their front door, you'd be
greeted by the faint smell of marble lights, the warmth
of a stovetop simmering something delicious, and a general sense
that everything was going to be okay. Their humble abode
was a refuge for me, while my home felt like
a sitcom titled When Marriages Go Wrong. Uncle Frank and
Aunt Maria's place was the blissful show on the rivaling network,
(06:09):
where everyone laughs, the dinner table is always full, and
hugs are handed out like candy. In many ways, it
was a traditional household. Frank brought home the bacon and
Maria sizzled it to perfection. For a kid like me,
whose life often felt like a half finished puzzle, their cozy,
orderly existence was like stepping into an East Side La
(06:32):
version of a Norman Rockwell painting, where nothing bad ever happened.
My weekend with cats started off with not much of
an agenda, mainly because our wallets were emptier than a
church on Super Bowl Sunday. So when Uncle Frank and
Aunt Maria offered up the idea of a Big Bear
trip to buy a Christmas tree on their dime, my
ears perked up. I was a kid from a family
(06:54):
who rarely splurged on anything more extravagant than a Costco
hot dog. But Big Bear had it all, snow draped streets,
majestic punt trees, and a postcard perfect lake. To teenage me,
going to Big Bear felt like a luxury getaway to
Aspen forget home deepot Christmas trees. This was how the
other half lived. I could practically hear the Jefferson's theme
(07:18):
playing in the background. We were moving on up, and
this little road trip provided another opportunity. It could change
the narrative of my relationship with Christmas trees. Growing up
with a single mother who stood five feet tall and
weighed maybe ninety pounds, soaking wet. Tree wrangling was always
a traumatic event as a child, I'd watch her wrestle
(07:40):
a six foot Douglas fir onto the roof of our
car and then drag it into the house. She was
like mighty mouse that by the time the tree was
upright in our living room, Mom looked like she'd barely
survived a bar fight with a grizzly. A few years later,
my mom got a boyfriend named William. He was nice,
but he was not the brightest crayon in the box.
(08:02):
One while trying to set up the Christmas tree in
our living room, tweedledee and tweedled dumb couldn't get it
to stay upright. The dang tree kept flopping over to
one side. William's solution he grabbed a hammer and some nails,
then nailed the trees would support bass into our hardwood floor.
And he forgot to add the watering dish. So by
(08:23):
the time New Year's Eve came around, that tree was
so dry that a ray of sunlight could have set
it up into flames. Suffice it to say, by my teens,
the smell of pine needles sparked a bit of PTSD.
But this time, this trip to Big Bear with my
Uncle Frank would be different. I told myself we were
(08:46):
leveling up. This wasn't a chaotic scramble for a half
dead tree at the local home depot. This was a
journey into Christmas magic, a snowy escapade with my favorite
cousin Kat. I'd finally get the wholesome Christmas experience I'd
been longing for. Yes, we Toldally, want to go, I
blurted out, without convening with Cat.
Speaker 1 (09:06):
Okay, we're leaving at the crack of dawn, so get
your beauty sleep.
Speaker 2 (09:09):
Uncle Frank warned. The next morning, at an hour so
ungodly that roosters were still hitting snooze, we loaded up
for our Big Bear expedition. Along the way, we swung
by to pick up my Aunt Raquel and my uncle Thomas.
(09:31):
Aunt Raquel was my mom's sister and was the entrepreneur
of our family. She was the reigning queen of the
local Baldwin Park salon scene, and she had a hairdow
that fit the part. Aunt Raquel's hair was always teased
to new heights. It was a monument to her profession
my Aunt Raquel's hair salon catered to everyone from gossipy
(09:52):
neighbors to the occasional bridezilla. While Uncle Thomas held court
in the world of small time real estate. He was
the grumpy hustler of the family, the kind of guy
that made George Costanza look optimistic. If being grumpy were
an Olympic sport, he'd be on the podium clutching gold
while complaining about the price of parking. In our family's hierarchy,
(10:18):
Aunt Raquel and Uncle Thomas were our version of the Rockefellers.
If the Rockefellers were Mexican immigrants who'd built their empire
with nothing but grit, haircuts and a well timed hustle,
they weren't diving into pools of gold coins like Scrooge McDuck,
But in our family were an eight sliced pizza fed twelve.
They were high rollers. Hithia, Hithio. I greeted them as
(10:41):
they approached Uncle Frank's car. Heimia, they replied, and that's
when I noticed something strange. Before he jumped into the car,
Uncle Thomas tossed a hefty duffel bag into the trunk. Hmm,
what's that? I thought we're not staying overnight, while the
bag with its sinister thud might as well have had
(11:03):
plot twist embroidered on it, because little did I know
that we were headed on a road trip to commit
a serious crime.
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Speaker 2 (12:38):
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and help us save America one story at a time.
Welcome back to Red Pilled America. So bright and early
one nineteen eighty seven December morning, me, my cousin, Kat,
(13:01):
uncle Frank, aunt Maria, Uncle Thomas, and Arachal all piled
into my uncle sedan and hit the road for the
roughly two and a half hour journey to Big Bear Lake.
The first half of the drive was easy, just your
average highway road trip, but the mountain was something else.
(13:22):
It involved navigating a twisty and turney road, a path
that would turn a seasoned sailor's stomach upside down. I
hadn't given much thought to the logistics of the trip,
a critical error given my unfortunate tendency to get carsick.
We weren't ten minutes up that mountain before it hit
me nausea. Kat was the first to notice. I deal's meal, Dad,
(13:46):
pull over, Adrianna's gonna blow. Cat yelled out. Uncle Frank
ignored her. My Uncle Tomas, clearly unfazed, shot back like
a war general, refusing to surrender.
Speaker 1 (13:57):
No, No, She's okay.
Speaker 2 (13:58):
And then, in a move that cemented him as both
genius and madman, he shoved a lemon into my trembling
hand and tossed me a grocery bag, as if these
two objects combined had mystical powers to halt my impending eruption.
I stared at him in disbelief. Was I supposed to
perform a magic trick? But he just nodded with the
unshakable confidence of someone who'd survived harder days. I sucked
(14:23):
that lemon dry, but it did little to quell the
ferocious nausea gripping my body. I was begging for a
reprieve from the relentless twists and turns of the road,
but there was no relief in sight. My aunts and uncles,
all emigrants, were unbothered by my suffering and had no
sympathy to spare. They were the masters of hardships, living
(14:45):
encyclopedias of adversity. To them, I was a marshmallow and
a steel toaed world, and my car sickness was just
another chapter in my soft suburban life. By the time
we finally conquered the mountain summit, I looked like I'd
been dragged through a washing machine set to extra spin.
I was an ugly shade of green, and my curls
(15:07):
had mutated into a full lion's mate. Still, I told
myself it was all worth it. We were here, finally,
here to find the perfect Christmas tree, a magical emblem
of the season. I was practically bouncing with excitement as
we pulled into the tree lot, my nausea a distant memory.
(15:30):
I leaped out of the car with the enthusiasm of
a toddler, on our way to meet Santa Claus. Cat
and I embarked on a leisurely stroll through the Christmas
tree lot. It was a forest of possibilities. Majestic Douglas furs,
(15:52):
thick Virginia pines, velvety noble furs, flocked trees with faux
snow dusted branches. They looked like they belonged in a
Hallmark movie. Tall trees, tiny trees, fat trees. Trees so
perfect they looked photoshopped. Each one whispered promises of twinkling
lights and cozy, hot cocoa fueled nights. Expensive yes that
(16:16):
my hair salon mobile aunt and uncle could easily afford.
One cat and I wandered through the rows like kids
in a candy store, pointing out the contenders. But that's
when the plot thickened, because I could see that the
magic was clearly lost on my uncles. I recognized the
(16:38):
look on their faces. It said there was no way
they were paying the sticker price for one of these
glistening giants. My uncles huddled together in a corner, heads bent,
voices hushed. I knew those two scoundrels were up to something.
Uncle Tomas, always the ringleader, finally broke the huddle with
(16:58):
an ominous pronouncement. That's go oh, I protested in disbelief.
But we haven't picked a tree yet, I was outraged.
Were they pranking me? Had I endured the treacherous car
ride up here just to leave empty handed? My protest
cries fell on deaf ears, like a kid being dragged
out of Disneyland before the fireworks show. I shuffled back
(17:21):
to the car, my head hanging low. And that's when
their diabolical plan was revealed. My uncles weren't here to
buy a tree. Oh no, our trip to the tree
lot was a ruse because these midlife hooligans were going
to chop one down. Legalities be damned. When I heard
(17:42):
their plan, my jaw hit the snow covered ground. Wait wait, wait, wait, wait,
we're stealing a tree, I asked in astonishment. Despite my
lowly social standing, I've always prided myself on maintaining at
least a semblance of decorum. Yet here I was about
to engage in a forestry felony. We entered this country
(18:02):
through their front door. Why are we acting like a
bunch of illegals, I said to myself. But it wasn't
long before I openly began to protest. We're better than
this I scoffed, but once again I was ignored. My
extended family had become suburban desperadoes, and I, unwittingly had
(18:25):
joined their posse. I didn't sign up for this. I
thought I was moving into a deluxe apartment in the sky.
No one told me that the duffel bag Uncle Thomas
flung into the trunk carried all the tools to pull
off this caper. As Uncle Frank pulled into a small
desolate road, my Uncle Thomas's eyes lit up. Oh look
(18:49):
at all these free trees, he moaned, like a raccoon
who had just found an open trash can. No wonder
he's rich. He doesn't pay for things, I thought to myself,
Stunned by this revelation, I couldn't believe it. My dear
Uncle Thomas, the man I once thought of as the
(19:10):
epitome of success, had just revealed himself. I mean, I
knew he wasn't a tree hugger, but I had no
idea he was a free loading tree chopper. My image
of him shifted immediately from an entrepreneurial beacon of light
to a penny pinching bandit. Now, don't get me wrong,
(19:32):
I wasn't exactly new to morally flexible schemes. My own
father could swindle a swindler, but this man, my beloved uncle,
had been bamboozling me for fifteen years. Now Here we
were about to commit the most sacrilegious act of all,
stealing a Christmas tree. It was a yuletide equivalent of
robbing a church. As we cruised down the street at
(19:56):
a snail's pace, I couldn't help it feel like an accomplice.
We were on some clandestine mission, a gang of bumbling
burglars in a slapstick film. All we were missing were
ski masks and a theme song. Finally, my uncles spotted
(20:18):
our target, a majestic tree standing proudly in the forest,
blissfully unaware of its impending abduction. And and Ley, let's go,
whispered my uncle Thomas. I'm not sure why he whispered.
There wasn't another human insight. Everyone jumped out of the
car and waddled through the knee high deep snow towards
(20:39):
the tree. Everyone except me I refused to participate in
their heist. I watched in disgust as my two Tamali
eating uncles took turns hacking at that poor baby pine
while my aunts and cat stood lookout. I knew then
where cat got her rebellious side. With every chop, you
(20:59):
could hear the tree crying help me, pase, somebody helped me.
I'm being kidnapped. After what felt like a hundred plus chops,
the tree finally fell. My uncle's eyes bulged like Smeeagle
(21:23):
from Lord of the Rings. They'd cut down their precious
Next thing I knew, my uncles were shuffling back to
the car, each one clutching an end of their ill
gotten pine. They looked like a bumbling South of the
Border Laurel and Hardy, runting and stumbling as they hoisted
the tree onto the rooftop of the car. They brought
new meaning to the phrase immigrants, we get the job done.
(21:46):
The absurdity of the situation got me to thinking, did
we possess no innate ability to exercise restraint in the
face of illegal entry? In a feverish haste, my uncle's
Jerry rigged the Christmas tree to the car roof. Everyone
jumped back in the car, and my uncle Frank sped
away from the scene of the crime with all the
(22:06):
subtlety of a Hollywood getaway. I could hear the bristles
of the tree shuffling along the roof of the car.
Is nothing gonna hold, I thought, still shocked by my
uncle's actions. From my perch in the dimly lit back seat,
Haronoia gripped me like a vice. Were we being followed?
I thought? I could hear sirens wailing in the distance.
(22:28):
Oh my gosh, do they handcuff miners. I could be
tried as an adult. My inner paranoia screamed. My plan
if we were caught was crystal clear. I'd play the
innocent lamb, then sing like a canary, Sir. These lumber
stealing lunatics kidnapped me. I'm innocent. I did nothing wrong, sir.
It was all them. Gradually, as we descended the mountain
(22:51):
my car sickness returned, and oddly I welcomed it. It
was a distraction from the chaos. But his fate would
have it. Karma was lurking just around the corner, waiting
to strike. We made it down the mountain, then Uncle
Frank jumped on the freeway. We were coming down the
(23:11):
home stretch. I began to calm down a bit. There
was no longer a siren in the background. It must
have just been my imagination. It looked like we were
in the clear, But just as I started to calm down,
it happened. I heard a violent snap. Apparently, in the
(23:31):
haste of their theft, my knit with uncles neglected to
properly secure the tree to the roof of the car.
I whipped around just in time to witness our tree,
our beloved, ill gotten pine, catapult off the roof. It
sailed down the freeway, bouncing end over end onto oncoming traffic,
(23:52):
and as it lay in the fast lane, I couldn't
help but admire its determination to escape our hair brained
holiday caper. Just as I was about to blurt out crime,
never pay pse, my uncle Frank surprised me again. He
pulled the car over on the shoulder of the freeway.
My uncles got out of the car while semi trucks
(24:17):
thundered past, honking. In what I assumed was a mix
of rage and disbelief, these two lunatics scrambled out to
retrieve their rogue pine on the freeway. I watched in
astonishment as they bobbed and weaved, avoiding cars like a
game of Fogger. A huge semi slammed on the brakes
and went sliding straight towards them. I covered my eyes
(24:41):
with my hands. I could not watch my uncles get
flattened on the freeway. I sat there waiting to hear
the bone crushing impact. When I peeked between a gap
in my fingers, I could see my uncles dragging the
tree back across the freeway. The semi was blocking every lane,
creating a crosswalk for my uncles. I couldn't believe my eyes.
(25:05):
They heaved that tree back onto the roof, tied it
down again, and we were back on the road. When
we finally made it to my uncle Thomasa's house, I
got out of the car to get a better look
at the tree. The once majestic specimen now resembled something
(25:27):
out of a Charlie Brown Christmas movie. As my family
embarked on their tree decorating extravaganza, I took a pass
and picked up the phone. Hello, Hi, Mom, Can you
come pick me up? She did. The following day, Mom
and I drove to the home depot Christmas tree lot.
(25:47):
The timber stood twice our size. As my mom bought one,
I did something I hadn't done before. Instead of watching
her rustle with the tree by herself, I grabbed one
end and we carried it to the car. It wasn't
the best tree on the lot, but I was just
happy we didn't chop it down ourselves. Which brings us
(26:10):
back to the question how can we lower the stress
of Christmas? The answer is keep it simple. You don't
need to spend a lot of money or do something
extravagant for Christmas to make the time special. Just keep
it simple. I thought my money bags aunt and uncle
had it better than us, but as I learned, they
were cutting a lot of corners in life. Christmas should
(26:33):
not be a time of stress. It should be a
time for working together. And by working together, I don't
mean hacking down a tree on federal property. I mean
working with what you have to build towards a better future.
Year after year I got a better tree, slowly but surely,
collecting ornaments to fill it, and this year I have
(26:53):
the most beautiful tree I've ever laid eyes on. So
this Christmas, don't stress about what you don't have. Instead,
work with what you do have and keep building for
a better tomorrow. Merry Christmas, everyone.
Speaker 1 (27:06):
Red pilled America is an iHeartRadio original podcast. It's owned
and produced by Adrianna Cortez and me Patrick Carelchi for
Inform Ventures. Now you can get ad free access to
our entire catalog of episodes by becoming a backstage subscriber.
To subscribe, just visit Redpilled America dot com and click
join in the top menu. Thanks for listening.
This is Red Pilled America. Some of the names in
this story have been changed to protect their privacy.
Speaker 2 (00:11):
In our household, no time is more magical than Christmas.
Speaker 1 (00:15):
You mean magically expensive.
Speaker 2 (00:18):
There's the gifts.
Speaker 1 (00:19):
It costs me an arm and a leg.
Speaker 2 (00:21):
The food is delicious.
Speaker 1 (00:23):
Somali's should just be called love handles.
Speaker 2 (00:27):
But perhaps the best part of Christmas are the decorations.
Speaker 1 (00:31):
Putting up the lights outside is backbreaking.
Speaker 2 (00:33):
Well. I absolutely love putting together a Christmas tree. I
have an exquisite collection of ornaments, and I also have
a ton of nutcrackers.
Speaker 1 (00:40):
And those nutcrackers they're given that name for a reason.
If I break another one during assembly, my wife said
she'll crack my head.
Speaker 2 (00:47):
Christmas is a magical time, but for some it can
be stressful. How can we lower the stress of Christmas?
Speaker 1 (00:57):
I'm Patrick Carelchi and.
Speaker 2 (00:59):
I'm Adriana Cortes And this.
Speaker 1 (01:01):
Is Red Pilled America. A storytelling show.
Speaker 2 (01:05):
This is not another talk show covering the day's news.
We're all about telling stories.
Speaker 1 (01:10):
Stories. Hollywood doesn't want you to hear stories.
Speaker 2 (01:13):
The media mocks stories about everyday Americans that the globalist ignore.
Speaker 1 (01:19):
You can think of red pilled America as audio documentaries,
and we promise only one thing, the truth. Welcome to
red Pilled America. How can we lower this stress of Christmas?
(01:42):
To find the answer, We're going to tell the story
of how Adriana first fell in love with the Christmas tree.
Those holiday pines are a source of beauty, but for Adriana,
they've also played a role in a family criminal endeavor.
Speaker 2 (01:56):
It was a cold December day in nineteen eighty seven,
and I couldn't believe what I was watching. Seated in
the back of my uncle sedan, looking out the rear
window as my two uncles were jaywalking across the freeway.
It was unbelievable. Sure, my people crossed the border illegally
(02:17):
every day, but the freeway was next level. My uncles
looked like the game Frogger, hopping between lanes to avoid
being squashed by oncoming traffic. I couldn't believe the agility
of those two old men. It looked like they'd almost
gotten across the freeway, but then a huge semi slammed
(02:39):
on the brakes and went sliding straight towards them. I
covered my eyes. I couldn't watch my uncles get flattened
on the freeway. As I sat there waiting to hear
the bone crushing impact, I couldn't help but think it
was all karma. Maybe they wouldn't have been roadkilled if
they hadn't just committed a felony. It's hard to believe
(03:04):
that this life threatening ordeal started with a simple question
from my uncle.
Speaker 1 (03:08):
We're going up to Big Bear to get a Christmas tree?
Do you girls want to come?
Speaker 2 (03:12):
Uncle Frank asked my cousin Kat and I. Uncle Frank
was my mom's brother and father to Cat, short for Catalina.
Kat wasn't just my cousin. She was my partner in crime,
my idol, and the undisputed queen of bad decisions with
great stories. She's my favorite cousin, which says a lot,
(03:35):
given that I have twenty seven of them on my
mother's side alone. Cat was different, six years my senior
and the black sheep of our family. She was a
masterclass in rebellion, dishing out life lessons that no school
teacher could ever dream up. Liquor before beer, You're in
the clear, She'd chant, like a sage, passing down the
(03:56):
wisdom of the ages. Kat could roll a joint so
perfect it would leave cheech and chong in all and
she was sly. She could sneak past bouncers with the
finesse of a professional con artist and still find time
to lecture me about not getting in trouble. Because beneath
her mischievous behavior, Kat was all heart. She was a
(04:19):
rule breaker, yes, but also the most fiercely loyal person
I knew. If life ever handed me a particularly dark twist,
say hypothetically I needed to dispose of a body, there
was no question who my first call would be. Cat
wouldn't just help bury the evidence. She'd bring the shovel
and a well thought out alibi. She was the poster
(04:39):
child of what today we call a ride or die.
Whenever I locked horns with my mom, which at the
time was at least twice a week, I dial Cat's number,
knowing she'd extract me from my situation. By nineteen eighty seven,
my mom and I could not exist in the same
room without an argument breaking out about what it seemed
(05:00):
like everything. But when me and Mom faced off, Cat
would swoop in like a stoned fairy godmother, throw an
arm around my shoulder, and whisk me away to safety.
That winter weekend in nineteen eighty seven was no different.
Cat and I escaped to her parents' house, my Uncle
Frank and Aunt Maria's home, which was a haven in
the madness. Uncle Frank, the unofficial elder statesman of my
(05:25):
mom's ten siblings, was the definition of cool picture a
guy who could fix a leaky faucet while humming Blue Moon,
his voice as smooth as butter. He was the kind
of laid back dude who could make anyone feel like family.
And then there was my Aunt Maria, his chain smoking
(05:45):
better half. If you opened their front door, you'd be
greeted by the faint smell of marble lights, the warmth
of a stovetop simmering something delicious, and a general sense
that everything was going to be okay. Their humble abode
was a refuge for me, while my home felt like
a sitcom titled When Marriages Go Wrong. Uncle Frank and
Aunt Maria's place was the blissful show on the rivaling network,
(06:09):
where everyone laughs, the dinner table is always full, and
hugs are handed out like candy. In many ways, it
was a traditional household. Frank brought home the bacon and
Maria sizzled it to perfection. For a kid like me,
whose life often felt like a half finished puzzle, their cozy,
orderly existence was like stepping into an East Side La
(06:32):
version of a Norman Rockwell painting, where nothing bad ever happened.
My weekend with cats started off with not much of
an agenda, mainly because our wallets were emptier than a
church on Super Bowl Sunday. So when Uncle Frank and
Aunt Maria offered up the idea of a Big Bear
trip to buy a Christmas tree on their dime, my
ears perked up. I was a kid from a family
(06:54):
who rarely splurged on anything more extravagant than a Costco
hot dog. But Big Bear had it all, snow draped streets,
majestic punt trees, and a postcard perfect lake. To teenage me,
going to Big Bear felt like a luxury getaway to
Aspen forget home deepot Christmas trees. This was how the
other half lived. I could practically hear the Jefferson's theme
(07:18):
playing in the background. We were moving on up, and
this little road trip provided another opportunity. It could change
the narrative of my relationship with Christmas trees. Growing up
with a single mother who stood five feet tall and
weighed maybe ninety pounds, soaking wet. Tree wrangling was always
a traumatic event as a child, I'd watch her wrestle
(07:40):
a six foot Douglas fir onto the roof of our
car and then drag it into the house. She was
like mighty mouse that by the time the tree was
upright in our living room, Mom looked like she'd barely
survived a bar fight with a grizzly. A few years later,
my mom got a boyfriend named William. He was nice,
but he was not the brightest crayon in the box.
(08:02):
One while trying to set up the Christmas tree in
our living room, tweedledee and tweedled dumb couldn't get it
to stay upright. The dang tree kept flopping over to
one side. William's solution he grabbed a hammer and some nails,
then nailed the trees would support bass into our hardwood floor.
And he forgot to add the watering dish. So by
(08:23):
the time New Year's Eve came around, that tree was
so dry that a ray of sunlight could have set
it up into flames. Suffice it to say, by my teens,
the smell of pine needles sparked a bit of PTSD.
But this time, this trip to Big Bear with my
Uncle Frank would be different. I told myself we were
(08:46):
leveling up. This wasn't a chaotic scramble for a half
dead tree at the local home depot. This was a
journey into Christmas magic, a snowy escapade with my favorite
cousin Kat. I'd finally get the wholesome Christmas experience I'd
been longing for. Yes, we Toldally, want to go, I
blurted out, without convening with Cat.
Speaker 1 (09:06):
Okay, we're leaving at the crack of dawn, so get
your beauty sleep.
Speaker 2 (09:09):
Uncle Frank warned. The next morning, at an hour so
ungodly that roosters were still hitting snooze, we loaded up
for our Big Bear expedition. Along the way, we swung
by to pick up my Aunt Raquel and my uncle Thomas.
(09:31):
Aunt Raquel was my mom's sister and was the entrepreneur
of our family. She was the reigning queen of the
local Baldwin Park salon scene, and she had a hairdow
that fit the part. Aunt Raquel's hair was always teased
to new heights. It was a monument to her profession
my Aunt Raquel's hair salon catered to everyone from gossipy
(09:52):
neighbors to the occasional bridezilla. While Uncle Thomas held court
in the world of small time real estate. He was
the grumpy hustler of the family, the kind of guy
that made George Costanza look optimistic. If being grumpy were
an Olympic sport, he'd be on the podium clutching gold
while complaining about the price of parking. In our family's hierarchy,
(10:18):
Aunt Raquel and Uncle Thomas were our version of the Rockefellers.
If the Rockefellers were Mexican immigrants who'd built their empire
with nothing but grit, haircuts and a well timed hustle,
they weren't diving into pools of gold coins like Scrooge McDuck,
But in our family were an eight sliced pizza fed twelve.
They were high rollers. Hithia, Hithio. I greeted them as
(10:41):
they approached Uncle Frank's car. Heimia, they replied, and that's
when I noticed something strange. Before he jumped into the car,
Uncle Thomas tossed a hefty duffel bag into the trunk. Hmm,
what's that? I thought we're not staying overnight, while the
bag with its sinister thud might as well have had
(11:03):
plot twist embroidered on it, because little did I know
that we were headed on a road trip to commit
a serious crime.
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Do you want to hear Red Pilled America stories ad free,
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dot com and click join in the topmenu. Join today
and help us save America one story at a time.
Welcome back to Red Pilled America. So bright and early
one nineteen eighty seven December morning, me, my cousin, Kat,
(13:01):
uncle Frank, aunt Maria, Uncle Thomas, and Arachal all piled
into my uncle sedan and hit the road for the
roughly two and a half hour journey to Big Bear Lake.
The first half of the drive was easy, just your
average highway road trip, but the mountain was something else.
(13:22):
It involved navigating a twisty and turney road, a path
that would turn a seasoned sailor's stomach upside down. I
hadn't given much thought to the logistics of the trip,
a critical error given my unfortunate tendency to get carsick.
We weren't ten minutes up that mountain before it hit
me nausea. Kat was the first to notice. I deal's meal, Dad,
(13:46):
pull over, Adrianna's gonna blow. Cat yelled out. Uncle Frank
ignored her. My Uncle Tomas, clearly unfazed, shot back like
a war general, refusing to surrender.
Speaker 1 (13:57):
No, No, She's okay.
Speaker 2 (13:58):
And then, in a move that cemented him as both
genius and madman, he shoved a lemon into my trembling
hand and tossed me a grocery bag, as if these
two objects combined had mystical powers to halt my impending eruption.
I stared at him in disbelief. Was I supposed to
perform a magic trick? But he just nodded with the
unshakable confidence of someone who'd survived harder days. I sucked
(14:23):
that lemon dry, but it did little to quell the
ferocious nausea gripping my body. I was begging for a
reprieve from the relentless twists and turns of the road,
but there was no relief in sight. My aunts and uncles,
all emigrants, were unbothered by my suffering and had no
sympathy to spare. They were the masters of hardships, living
(14:45):
encyclopedias of adversity. To them, I was a marshmallow and
a steel toaed world, and my car sickness was just
another chapter in my soft suburban life. By the time
we finally conquered the mountain summit, I looked like I'd
been dragged through a washing machine set to extra spin.
I was an ugly shade of green, and my curls
(15:07):
had mutated into a full lion's mate. Still, I told
myself it was all worth it. We were here, finally,
here to find the perfect Christmas tree, a magical emblem
of the season. I was practically bouncing with excitement as
we pulled into the tree lot, my nausea a distant memory.
(15:30):
I leaped out of the car with the enthusiasm of
a toddler, on our way to meet Santa Claus. Cat
and I embarked on a leisurely stroll through the Christmas
tree lot. It was a forest of possibilities. Majestic Douglas furs,
(15:52):
thick Virginia pines, velvety noble furs, flocked trees with faux
snow dusted branches. They looked like they belonged in a
Hallmark movie. Tall trees, tiny trees, fat trees. Trees so
perfect they looked photoshopped. Each one whispered promises of twinkling
lights and cozy, hot cocoa fueled nights. Expensive yes that
(16:16):
my hair salon mobile aunt and uncle could easily afford.
One cat and I wandered through the rows like kids
in a candy store, pointing out the contenders. But that's
when the plot thickened, because I could see that the
magic was clearly lost on my uncles. I recognized the
(16:38):
look on their faces. It said there was no way
they were paying the sticker price for one of these
glistening giants. My uncles huddled together in a corner, heads bent,
voices hushed. I knew those two scoundrels were up to something.
Uncle Tomas, always the ringleader, finally broke the huddle with
(16:58):
an ominous pronouncement. That's go oh, I protested in disbelief.
But we haven't picked a tree yet, I was outraged.
Were they pranking me? Had I endured the treacherous car
ride up here just to leave empty handed? My protest
cries fell on deaf ears, like a kid being dragged
out of Disneyland before the fireworks show. I shuffled back
(17:21):
to the car, my head hanging low. And that's when
their diabolical plan was revealed. My uncles weren't here to
buy a tree. Oh no, our trip to the tree
lot was a ruse because these midlife hooligans were going
to chop one down. Legalities be damned. When I heard
(17:42):
their plan, my jaw hit the snow covered ground. Wait wait, wait, wait, wait,
we're stealing a tree, I asked in astonishment. Despite my
lowly social standing, I've always prided myself on maintaining at
least a semblance of decorum. Yet here I was about
to engage in a forestry felony. We entered this country
(18:02):
through their front door. Why are we acting like a
bunch of illegals, I said to myself. But it wasn't
long before I openly began to protest. We're better than
this I scoffed, but once again I was ignored. My
extended family had become suburban desperadoes, and I, unwittingly had
(18:25):
joined their posse. I didn't sign up for this. I
thought I was moving into a deluxe apartment in the sky.
No one told me that the duffel bag Uncle Thomas
flung into the trunk carried all the tools to pull
off this caper. As Uncle Frank pulled into a small
desolate road, my Uncle Thomas's eyes lit up. Oh look
(18:49):
at all these free trees, he moaned, like a raccoon
who had just found an open trash can. No wonder
he's rich. He doesn't pay for things, I thought to myself,
Stunned by this revelation, I couldn't believe it. My dear
Uncle Thomas, the man I once thought of as the
(19:10):
epitome of success, had just revealed himself. I mean, I
knew he wasn't a tree hugger, but I had no
idea he was a free loading tree chopper. My image
of him shifted immediately from an entrepreneurial beacon of light
to a penny pinching bandit. Now, don't get me wrong,
(19:32):
I wasn't exactly new to morally flexible schemes. My own
father could swindle a swindler, but this man, my beloved uncle,
had been bamboozling me for fifteen years. Now Here we
were about to commit the most sacrilegious act of all,
stealing a Christmas tree. It was a yuletide equivalent of
robbing a church. As we cruised down the street at
(19:56):
a snail's pace, I couldn't help it feel like an accomplice.
We were on some clandestine mission, a gang of bumbling
burglars in a slapstick film. All we were missing were
ski masks and a theme song. Finally, my uncles spotted
(20:18):
our target, a majestic tree standing proudly in the forest,
blissfully unaware of its impending abduction. And and Ley, let's go,
whispered my uncle Thomas. I'm not sure why he whispered.
There wasn't another human insight. Everyone jumped out of the
car and waddled through the knee high deep snow towards
(20:39):
the tree. Everyone except me I refused to participate in
their heist. I watched in disgust as my two Tamali
eating uncles took turns hacking at that poor baby pine
while my aunts and cat stood lookout. I knew then
where cat got her rebellious side. With every chop, you
(20:59):
could hear the tree crying help me, pase, somebody helped me.
I'm being kidnapped. After what felt like a hundred plus chops,
the tree finally fell. My uncle's eyes bulged like Smeeagle
(21:23):
from Lord of the Rings. They'd cut down their precious
Next thing I knew, my uncles were shuffling back to
the car, each one clutching an end of their ill
gotten pine. They looked like a bumbling South of the
Border Laurel and Hardy, runting and stumbling as they hoisted
the tree onto the rooftop of the car. They brought
new meaning to the phrase immigrants, we get the job done.
(21:46):
The absurdity of the situation got me to thinking, did
we possess no innate ability to exercise restraint in the
face of illegal entry? In a feverish haste, my uncle's
Jerry rigged the Christmas tree to the car roof. Everyone
jumped back in the car, and my uncle Frank sped
away from the scene of the crime with all the
(22:06):
subtlety of a Hollywood getaway. I could hear the bristles
of the tree shuffling along the roof of the car.
Is nothing gonna hold, I thought, still shocked by my
uncle's actions. From my perch in the dimly lit back seat,
Haronoia gripped me like a vice. Were we being followed?
I thought? I could hear sirens wailing in the distance.
(22:28):
Oh my gosh, do they handcuff miners. I could be
tried as an adult. My inner paranoia screamed. My plan
if we were caught was crystal clear. I'd play the
innocent lamb, then sing like a canary, Sir. These lumber
stealing lunatics kidnapped me. I'm innocent. I did nothing wrong, sir.
It was all them. Gradually, as we descended the mountain
(22:51):
my car sickness returned, and oddly I welcomed it. It
was a distraction from the chaos. But his fate would
have it. Karma was lurking just around the corner, waiting
to strike. We made it down the mountain, then Uncle
Frank jumped on the freeway. We were coming down the
(23:11):
home stretch. I began to calm down a bit. There
was no longer a siren in the background. It must
have just been my imagination. It looked like we were
in the clear, But just as I started to calm down,
it happened. I heard a violent snap. Apparently, in the
(23:31):
haste of their theft, my knit with uncles neglected to
properly secure the tree to the roof of the car.
I whipped around just in time to witness our tree,
our beloved, ill gotten pine, catapult off the roof. It
sailed down the freeway, bouncing end over end onto oncoming traffic,
(23:52):
and as it lay in the fast lane, I couldn't
help but admire its determination to escape our hair brained
holiday caper. Just as I was about to blurt out crime,
never pay pse, my uncle Frank surprised me again. He
pulled the car over on the shoulder of the freeway.
My uncles got out of the car while semi trucks
(24:17):
thundered past, honking. In what I assumed was a mix
of rage and disbelief, these two lunatics scrambled out to
retrieve their rogue pine on the freeway. I watched in
astonishment as they bobbed and weaved, avoiding cars like a
game of Fogger. A huge semi slammed on the brakes
and went sliding straight towards them. I covered my eyes
(24:41):
with my hands. I could not watch my uncles get
flattened on the freeway. I sat there waiting to hear
the bone crushing impact. When I peeked between a gap
in my fingers, I could see my uncles dragging the
tree back across the freeway. The semi was blocking every lane,
creating a crosswalk for my uncles. I couldn't believe my eyes.
(25:05):
They heaved that tree back onto the roof, tied it
down again, and we were back on the road. When
we finally made it to my uncle Thomasa's house, I
got out of the car to get a better look
at the tree. The once majestic specimen now resembled something
(25:27):
out of a Charlie Brown Christmas movie. As my family
embarked on their tree decorating extravaganza, I took a pass
and picked up the phone. Hello, Hi, Mom, Can you
come pick me up? She did. The following day, Mom
and I drove to the home depot Christmas tree lot.
(25:47):
The timber stood twice our size. As my mom bought one,
I did something I hadn't done before. Instead of watching
her rustle with the tree by herself, I grabbed one
end and we carried it to the car. It wasn't
the best tree on the lot, but I was just
happy we didn't chop it down ourselves. Which brings us
(26:10):
back to the question how can we lower the stress
of Christmas? The answer is keep it simple. You don't
need to spend a lot of money or do something
extravagant for Christmas to make the time special. Just keep
it simple. I thought my money bags aunt and uncle
had it better than us, but as I learned, they
were cutting a lot of corners in life. Christmas should
(26:33):
not be a time of stress. It should be a
time for working together. And by working together, I don't
mean hacking down a tree on federal property. I mean
working with what you have to build towards a better future.
Year after year I got a better tree, slowly but surely,
collecting ornaments to fill it, and this year I have
(26:53):
the most beautiful tree I've ever laid eyes on. So
this Christmas, don't stress about what you don't have. Instead,
work with what you do have and keep building for
a better tomorrow. Merry Christmas, everyone.
Speaker 1 (27:06):
Red pilled America is an iHeartRadio original podcast. It's owned
and produced by Adrianna Cortez and me Patrick Carelchi for
Inform Ventures. Now you can get ad free access to
our entire catalog of episodes by becoming a backstage subscriber.
To subscribe, just visit Redpilled America dot com and click
join in the top menu. Thanks for listening.
Hosts And Creators
Adryana Cortez
Patrick Courrielche
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