An army of volunteers, each with their own reason

SALT LAKE CITY — "We all have our reason."

That's Karen England speaking, explaining how and why a Utah phenomenon known as the Festival of Trees keeps happening year after year after year.

Local Christmastime charities tend to come and go. Not Festival of Trees. This week, when 535 fully decorated Christmas trees go up for auction at the Mountain America Expo Center in Sandy, it will mark the festival's 54th consecutive year. And every year seems to get grander and bigger. No one will be surprised if/when the 2024 event, which runs Wednesday through Saturday, exceeds the $3.4 million raised last year, all of it going to the festival's one and only charity: Primary Children's Hospital.

The festival's history dates back to 1970 when a Primary Children's worker went to Hawaii and saw a Christmas tree fundraiser there. She brought the idea back to Utah, and the first Festival of Trees was held in 1970 at the armory on Sunnyside Avenue. It raised $36,000.

In no time, the festival outgrew the armory. It first moved to the Salt Palace, where it stayed for almost 30 years before relocating to the 240,000 square foot Sandy Expo Center, where every inch is taken up with not only the showcase trees — auctioned off at prices ranging from $300 to the $85,000 the Utah Jazz tree fetched last year (it was adorned with autographed basketballs from every NBA team) — but also with booths displaying and selling everything from wreaths, quilts, gingerbread houses, hot scones and what has become a festival staple: homemade fudge.

Last year they sold 5,000 pounds of fudge.

Underpinning the festival's long-running success is a volunteer army, several thousand strong, most of them women, who don't get paid a penny for their time and yet show up every year as regular as a Swiss train.

The yearly turnover rate for these volunteers is so low that, according to this year's board chairwoman, Jennifer Ward, all it takes to find replacements is a couple of Instagram posts.

"The volunteers are wonderful; they are the secret to what we do," says Ward. "Nothing happens without them. Nothing."

At the tip of the volunteer spear is a group of women who call themselves the alumni board.

The alumni board is currently made up of more than 50 women who once served on the executive board, many of them for decades, before stepping down. No one would argue that they have earned the right to enjoy the holidays relaxing at home listening to Andy Williams Christmas records. Yet they can't stay away.

England, who served for 18 years on the executive board, two of them as co-chairwoman, is a card-carrying member of the alumni board.

Staying involved is easy, she says. What would be hard is not coming back.

"The friendships you make are incredible," she says. "You create such a bond when you come together for a cause that you believe in so much, working together harder than you thought you could work."

Beyond that, though, are the private reasons that are even more compelling.

"Everyone has a personal story why they're here and why they stay," says England.

Hers involves her grandchild Gracie, who was born 21 years ago with a cleft lip and cleft palate.

The day month-old Gracie came from Idaho to undergo surgery at Primary Children's will remain forever etched in her grandmother's memory.

"Her mom and dad and I were in the waiting room waiting for them to come and pick her up to take her into surgery," England remembers, "and when they came and took the baby out of her mom's arms I thought her mom was just going to fall to the floor in a million pieces.

"You always have an advocate that works at the hospital who helps you make your appointments. Well, this wonderful lady who was our advocate took us out of that parents' waiting room on our way to the other waiting room where we would be when she was done with surgery. On the way, we walked past the door of the room where the baby was going to have the surgery. She had a little mask over her nose, and the anesthesiologist had her in his arms and he was rocking her and softly singing to her. Now, when her mommy saw that it made her feel so much better, that her baby was in the arms of a loving man that was putting her to sleep, singing to her. That's the kind of care that they give you there, they're just magical. They not only treat the child, they treat the whole family. They heal everybody's heart.

"I just felt like I really am glad that I'm involved in helping families give their children care at this hospital, and it's made me stick with it ever since — because what we do is for the kids."

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