Ornament overload

In addition to the usual cavalcade of spam, newspaper reporters are fortunate enough to receive a nonstop string of e-mails from kind individuals who are anxious to suggest story ideas. I'll confess that I've grown immune to the daily rush of urgent subject lines such as "Story idea! Experts say scented candles relieve holiday stress." There are only so many times a week you can yell "Stop the presses! Scented candles relieve holiday stress!" before people start looking at you strangely.

But occasionally I pay attention to these missives because there are true curiosities to be found. One such e-mail came from HBO. "Add some style to the holidays with ornaments from the HBO shop!" it promised. Always eager to add style where I can, I opened the e-mail.

The HBO shop suggested I add style by decorating my tree with "Sopranos" Christmas ornaments. I'm not a traditionalist by any stretch. Heck, I once created a "Charlie's Angels"-themed Christmas wreath by gluing toy hair dryers and trial-size cans of Aqua Net to a plastic wreath that I had spray-painted gold. But for some reason, Christmas ornaments celebrating New Jersey mobsters struck me as inappropriate, no matter how sensitive and cuddly the mobsters may be.

It's not just HBO that is guilty of bloodshed on boughs of holly. There's a company called Good Tidings that makes a "Jingle Bells shotgun shells light set." While I applaud the fact that the gun shells are being recycled, I can't help but think no matter how secular Christmas has become, light-up shotgun shells may not be the best way to spread the message of peace on Earth, good will toward men.

The three-pack of ornaments featuring horror movie villains Freddy Krueger, Jason Voorhees, and Leatherface - and sadly I'm not making this up - seems almost tame in comparison.

According to Meera Lester, author of the book "Why Does Santa Wear Red?," the Christmas tree is a holdover from Pagan celebrations. The Romans also decorated with garland greens to celebrate their gods. The tree really didn't earn a position of honor in living rooms until the 15th century, and even then, not everybody was crazy about setting up a Pagan shrub in their home.

"Decorating a tree went in and out of favor for many years," Lester says. "The Quakers and the Puritans didn't want to decorate in more modern times because it was considered frivolous."

Those Quakers and Puritans would be surprised by the range of ornaments in stores now. Today's holiday tree isn't really about Christmas, it's the ultimate expression of its owner's personality. The idea of the Christmas tree as agent of self-expression was in the news last week after Seattle artist Deborah Lawrence created an "Impeach Bush" Christmas ornament for the White House Christmas tree. Not surprisingly, it was the only ornament of 370 commissioned for the official tree that was rejected by Laura Bush.

Holiday self-expression is the reason why I was stuck in line behind Barbara Collins last week at Dunkin' Donuts. The Braintree administrative assistant was buying ornaments for her tree, which she told me is completely festooned in Dunkin' Donuts and Starbucks decorations, because she's a caffeine junkie. Her friends also buy her coffee-related ornaments. "But what does that have to do with Christmas?" I naively asked.

"Coffee makes me happy, and Christmas makes me happy, so I combine the two," she said as she purchased six ceramic ornaments that looked like miniature Styrofoam cups of coffee.

Collins turned her tree into a celebration of her addiction. Fair enough. I hang mini-trombones and Siamese cats on my tree. We all have our peccadilloes. But I have a soft spot for people like 32-year-old Angie Davis of Cambridge and her style of decorating. Every Christmas she pulls out a box of her grandmother's ornaments, which are a mix of mid-century glass balls, Christmas elves, snowmen, and sleds. They're a little mangy - she calls them "well loved" - but they are in decent shape for being created roughly the same year as Keith Richards.

She has friends who spend lots of cash and time creating stunning trees - and she's understandably envious of those friends. But for a few days a year, she likes to re-create the tree she remembered as a girl, preferring to reflect on her own family rather than, say, a fictional Mafia family from New Jersey.

Christopher Muther can be reached at muther@globe.com.