The most wonderful time of the year

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December 23, 2009

My View

The holidays are the most wonderful time of the year. I am positive whoever coined that phrase has never strung lights on a Christmas tree. Every year in our home, we are sure it will be different. This is the year when all the bulbs work and we are not tearing our hair out in frustration trying to fix them. When did the phrase, "Honey, it's time to put the Christmas lights up" become such a source of anxiety?

You see, it's not just the tree, it's the outside lights as well. Most of the homes in our quaint neighborhood display white mini-lights on trees, bushes and windows giving the entire street a beautifully decorated glow. Wanting to keep up with the Joneses so to speak, we like to drape green garland with lights around our white-bannistered front porch and around the lamppost. We top it off with red bows on the pillars and hang a wreath on our shed illuminated by a floodlight. White candles are placed in all fourteen windows.

It doesn't sound like much, but when the plastic bins are brought down from the attic and opened, it looks like we have enough decorations for the Empire State Building. There's a reason for this. Among the lights we think work, there are also endless strings that don't work, may have worked in the past, or might work if we fool around with them enough. Although a box of these cost about $1.88, you simply cannot throw out any old ones, just in case you need them.

This year the saga continues. My husband Paul began detangling the outside lights. He plugged them in and while some of them worked, to no one's surprise, others did not. We were lucky enough to have a package of replacement bulbs so he began to remove each of the dead ones one by one, replacing them with new ones. He sat on a kitchen stool at the island patiently going through the process. Upon completion, he plugged in the string once again, and voila, it didn't work. Now the discussion comes up to buy all new lights. "No, he announces. I hate the thought that we have to buy new lights every year. It's just not right." I reply by adding that they are extremely cheap, and I am willing to pay the small price for the amount of stress it will eliminate. "I'm going to the store, he says. "Okay, I am thinking, this is good." He'll come home with new lights and we'll be all set.

When he returns, he has eight packages of replacement bulbs at $1.25 a piece. I'm thinking we could have had five new boxes of lights for that, and am hoping my mouth doesn't utter what my brain is thinking. He sets up once again and patiently replaces every bulb on the string. No complaining, no swearing, just a quiet determination to get the job done. There's an eerie silence in the room and I want to put on "Joy to the World" or "Jingle Bells" thinking we could sing along and be happy, but this is a fantasy. Going into another room is a much saner course of action.

After every bulb is replaced on every string that doesn't work, he confidently puts plug to outlet and gets nothing. Hours have gone by on this short winter day and dusk is now upon us. Paul is now done with the replacement bulbs and heads out to the store once again. This time he comes back with, yes, new lights. LED lights. The kind that won't burn out he says. For $6.98 a box. Times eight. So what? Hooray I am thinking. Halleluiah. Hark the Herald Angels sing.

Until I remember, we haven't even begun to sort out the lights for the Christmas tree. It's okay. Every family has holiday traditions. This is ours.

nnn

Diane Hickey Carter is a member of the Greater Derry Creative Women's Writers Group.