The Year I Ruined Christmas for Everyone

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I came within a hair’s breadth of having to mount a ladder this year and string lights on the front of the house. We needed a new tree, and while shopping for one, Mrs. Brown found two tiny trees about three feet tall, adorned with white lights. They sit on either side of our front door as a distinguished and tasteful alternative to a luminary broadside that can be seen for miles. I toyed with the idea of getting permanent lights installed. You know what I am talking about: the kind that you can change the colors to match the season. However, every home I have seen with those ends up looking like a discount, off-strip Vegas casino. That is not a look we want to cultivate. If you have those lights, my apologies if you are offended. Hopefully, they look better than the ones around my town. I keep wanting to knock on the doors and ask to be directed to the nickel slots and the buffet.

That being said, every Christmas at my house, we have the debate about multi-colored lights versus all-white. For some reason, women always seem to prefer white lights. Mrs. Brown is no exception. Since our first Christmas together, I have argued passionately for multi-colored lights and have lost every time. Last year, I suggested that multi-colored lights would better reflect our commitment to Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion in Christmas decor. I will leave it to your imagination as to how well that went over. Okay, so it was a weak argument. If you’re interested, I lost the argument again this year.

As usual for the season, multiple reports have surfaced on the web about folks who go over the top when it comes to lighting up their homes for the holidays. According to some reports, a few of these folks have had the authorities called on them because of the noise, crowds, and sheer wattage used to produce Christmas displays. I tend to sympathize with the decorators. You see, I was that guy one year.  

Discussions about aesthetics aside, Mrs. Brown has always been a fan of outside Christmas lights. I, on the other hand, have always been a fan of not falling off ladders in freezing temperatures. However, on our second Christmas together as husband and wife, I found a solution. The local watering hole that I frequented for chicken wings and draft beer after work was also the headquarters for a river-running company. Since no one wants to float down the Green River in Utah in December, the one remaining river guide was out of work. He hit upon the idea of starting his own outdoor Christmas lights business. He was an affable, wanna-be hippie, and I liked the kid and respected his entrepreneurial spirit. I told him I didn’t need an inflatable Santa or snowman. I gave him $100 and told him to do what he could with that.

Well, gentle readers, either I got the friends and family discount,  or $100 bought a helluva lot more Christmas lights in 2009 than it does in 2024.  I could see the glow from two blocks away. I even wondered what was producing all that light until I turned onto my block. I thought it was an accident scene. Every eave, every joint line in the siding, and every window was lined with brilliant, white Christmas lights. The entire roof was outlined with them; they framed the garage door, and there was even a ten-foot star on the garage roof. I discovered parts of my home I didn’t even know existed only because the house had never been illuminated like this before, even in broad daylight. We had a Christmas party that year. People asked, “Which house is yours?” I said, “The one with all the Christmas lights.” The reply was usually, “Lots of houses have Christmas lights.” I said somewhat abashedly, “No, you’ll know it when you see it.”  The local police department put out an advisory to wear UV-rated eye protection when driving down our street. Single-engine planes kept strafing our house, thinking they were on the final approach to the municipal airport. A medical helicopter touched down in our front yard, expecting to find the trauma center. We got a cease-and-desist order from NASA, and while I can’t be sure, there may have been one or two Roswell-type incidents in our back field.  

Worst of all, my neighbors hated me. Why? Because in my desire to spend a measly $100 to spread a little Christmas cheer, I singlehandedly wiped out every Christmas display on my block. No matter how creative, tasteful, and artistic my neighbors had been in illuminating their homes, their best efforts were washed away by the barrage of light from Stately Brown Manor. I was the scourge of my block. No one had a Merry Christmas that year, and it was all my fault. It took a lot of cases of beer to smooth everything over that following summer, which is saying something since we lived in a mostly Mormon neighborhood. 

All this is to say that if you have someone with a bigger-than-life Christmas display on your block, give them a little grace. They’re just trying to bring a little joy to the world. Besides, if you play your cards right, you may even get a case of beer.