While Rockefeller Center’s towering Christmas tree steals the spotlight every holiday season, a quieter, more poignant tradition lies hidden in the heart of Central Park. Known as the Furever Tree, this 18-foot Hinoki false cypress has become a touching memorial for beloved pets, decorated with nearly 2,000 heartfelt ornaments commemorating furry, feathered, and even scaly companions.
For almost 40 years, this humble evergreen has provided solace and joy to New Yorkers who have lost cherished animals. The tree’s decorations are deeply personal—a terrier named Scout is remembered with the words, “Roam free and unencumbered,” while a gray lop-eared rabbit named Milo Lee is celebrated for his “happy sounds when you get treats.” Each ornament tells a story of love, loss, and the enduring bond between people and their pets.
The tree owes its longevity to the dedication of volunteers like Larry Closs and Marianne Larsen. Closs, an Upper West Side documentarian, calls himself an “ambassador” for the memorial, while Larsen, a semi-retired interior decorator “pushing 70,” has been the tree’s caretaker for two decades.
The tradition began in 1986 when two theater-loving pet owners, Jason Reddock and Nicki Gallasa, adorned the tree with photos of their late dogs and red velvet bows. What started as a simple tribute has grown into a cherished annual tradition, with word spreading among those who find comfort in honoring their pets.
Closs and Larsen, along with a team of “elves,” bring the tree to life every Thanksgiving, carefully hanging preserved ornaments—some dating back to the 1980s. Larsen even invested in a lamination machine to repair and protect these sentimental keepsakes, ensuring they endure the test of time and the elements.
Unlike commercialized holiday attractions, the Furever Tree is intentionally low-profile. Its exact location isn’t widely shared; those who know its whereabouts treasure the secret, ensuring the space remains peaceful and intimate.
“After 40 years, it’s still a secret—that’s part of the mystique,” Closs said. “When the sun glints off the ornaments and they dance in the wind, it’s breathtaking.”
For many, visiting the Furever Tree is a deeply personal ritual. Annabella Cannarella, 89, crosses town daily with her cane to pay respects to ornaments for her friends’ pets and her own three late cats. Dylan Skinner, 26, and her fiancé recently added an ornament for their cat Harley, who passed away from cancer. “It’s emotional,” Skinner said. “It’s wild to see so much love encapsulated in such a small space.”
In a bustling city that often prioritizes spectacle, the Furever Tree reminds us of the power of quiet traditions. It’s not just a memorial; it’s a sanctuary—a place where grief and joy coexist, and where love, even for the smallest creatures, is celebrated.
As Christmas lights and carols fill New York, the Furever Tree stands as a testament to the bonds we share with our pets and the enduring impact they have on our lives. It’s a gentle reminder that sometimes, the most meaningful tributes are found not in grandeur, but in the heartfelt simplicity of a hidden cypress tree in Central Park.
