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WellRed Everything I Know About Interior Illumination
While I was hard at work at midnight the other night, deftly plying Christmas lights on the tree that won’t quit, I started thinking about what a big deal Christmas lights are in my family. 
It all goes back to the 1950s, when my father was growing up in the outskirts of Charlotte. Every year, it was always the same for his family of seven. His parents would invariably walk out into the backyard and cut down a cedar tree (and no, I don’t mean a Leland Cyprus, which is the rich man’s cedar tree). They would string its prickly needles with the one lone strand of Christmas lights they owned — equipped with a whopping seven bulbs. The strand ran straight down the tree, in a line. It was a pitiful tree, and at 8 years old, my dad knew it. The problem was compounded by the fact that one of my father’s friends was a boy who, by Daddy’s standards, was rich. That is, he always had graham crackers, peanut butter, and Nilla Wafers in his cupboard, and every December, his living room was transformed by an amazing Frazier Fur tree bedecked with ornaments and lights, including that 1950s creation: bubble lights. This scene, in contrast to his simple little tree, had quite an effect on my dad. So the story goes, he promised himself that when he was older and had his own family and home, his Christmas tree would always be well trimmed, blazing with lights. Thus began the lighting frenzy that defines all of my family members to one extent or another. As a child, I remember waiting not so patiently each December among the boxes of ornaments spread around the room, while my dad labored to get the lights on the tree. Needless to say, our lights did not hang down in a straight line — heck, no! Nor were they wrapped around the tree in a haphazard fashion. Each tree was a masterpiece; and as such, the lighting of each was an event that took at least four hours (which felt more like four days). My sister and I would spend the time running in circles to the beat of Sleigh Ride, watching the heat of wobbly candles send our angel chimes into a dinging flurry that matched our own anticipation. Finally, after a few thousand laps around the living room, he would declare the lights finished, and my family would begin putting ornaments on our tree, to the frenetic holiday tunes of The Ray Conniff Singers. One year, my father put a flashing neon star atop the tree … to my mother’s chagrin. She called it the Las Vegas star and, much like the mother in A Christmas Story (who “accidentally” breaks the atrocious “leg lamp” won by the father, and then declares them all out of glue), I think my own mom took matters into her own hands the next year … our gaudy little tree topper was never seen again. I don’t remember when my dad re-discovered the bubble lights of his childhood and added them to our Christmas repertoire, but they’ve been on my parents’ Christmas trees for the last 30 years. And I’ll never forget the Thanksgiving we were shopping in the biggest Christmas store in Gatlinburg, Tenn., and we lost my father for 30 minutes. We found him in the store’s lighting section, giving an impromptu seminar on bubble lights to some 25 strangers. These days, lights are still very important to my family. In the perfect analogy of our very different personalities, my sister is a white-light kind of gal, and I am multi-color all the way. Regardless, we both spend days getting our lights just right on our respective trees, and worrying what the rest of the family will think. Is it too dark? Can you see the wires? “There are a few dark spots,” my sister cautioned me early this December, as I stared at her tree — which seemed perfect in every way. “If you squint your eyes, you can see the dark spots,” my 8-year-old nephew told me solemnly. I squinted, but it looked just great to me. I went straight home, and began to worry about my own tree. “Should I add more lights?” I asked my husband and 6-year-old daughter. We put it to a vote; and thankfully, the final decision was, no. The tree was just right — a little full, but just right. To be certain, decorations are just a small part of the holidays, and I am aware that Christmas trees are not the reason for the season. But, it’s nice, when the world seems too full of work and worry, to come home at night to a cheerful Christmas tree, all aglow with lights. And, it’s nicer still to remember all those wonderful Christmases past … |