Christmastime In My Little Town

The other night I asked Dan to drive me around so we could look at people's Christmas lights. As much as I've complained that the season has been getting to me, there are times when even I cannot resist its charms entirely.

This is something affectionately referred to as "The Pit". It's the old football stadium next to what used to be the high school. It is actually a giant pit, with stone bleachers on either side and a little stone field house that is now used as a warming house. Every winter the city floods it and it becomes this.

The old high school is now kind of a multi purpose municipal building housing community ed
etc, but it still looks totally "Rydell High" and you can easily picture poodle skirts and greasers all over the front sidewalk. The second floor is supposedly haunted by an old custodian. I've seen a picture of the ghost. Pretty irrefutable looking.

It was only in the single digits this night-- if that, yet people were out. Little travelling hockey scrums of 2, 3, 4 people whirling around the ice-- and not all guys if you look close. Go chix w/ sticks!

There is something kind of romantic about Christmas lights in a way. I always argue that women are the only ones who care about holiday traditions, and sometimes get caught up in criticizing the way some women seem to get so determined to force it- trying to manufacture some meaningful holiday magicalness-- that all it does is drive their family nuts and make them look like they need to get a life.

I think I'm partially right-- it is women who drive the traditions and rituals bus, but exterior lights are almost always put up by the men. (Sorry to go all gender role on you, but in my part of the world that's still how it rolls) Part of me has to agree with my Mom- (That's right Mom, go print this out and frame it) -- While they may drag their feet and grouse around about it, men like the resulting effect of all this- of feeling connected to a home- not just a house. We all like that.

That's where the point of pride thing comes in, (also exhibited by insane lawn obsession in summer). It can be silly and taken to extremes, and, as in most human things, there exists an unattractive underbelly of vanity, but it attaches us to where we live, makes it mean more than a roof over our head.

And the lights are a way of marking the year. Look, something different is happening right now, and we're a part of it. (Even if you insist on being apart from it- sorry man, you're still part of it, because it's there and you're reacting. Cross your arms and frown all you want.) For many people this has an overarching religious celebration attached, but it has become broader than that.

Non-religious people find comfort, sometimes grudgingly, in memories, and a sense of community too.

Weirdly, it sometimes reminds me of the frog-storm scene in "Magnolia"-- "Look, this unusual event is happening everywhere at once and we're all here experiencing it in our own scattered about way, together."

My mom insists you get more out of all this if you are religious (out of everything really), and I relate even though I don't completely share her beliefs. (No, I'm not an atheist, I'm just not really anything with a name.) I feel the same about people who don't like animals. They are so missing out!

All the things I really dislike about this time of year-- the commercialism, the pressure to adhere to traditions, the obligations, bell ringers, guilt, people who donate to "toys for tots" and insist their big dumb faces get televised doing so-- can all be overshadowed by just a few really meaningful experiences.

Driving around with Dan the other night was one of them.

I'd say, "Oh, this one-- stop. Stop! You're not stopping!" Him- "Oh settle down. I am too. There, see?" As usual he hadn't stopped exactly where I'd wanted him to but a rebellious five or six feet farther down. Thin ice man. That guy is a total loose cannon.

Once I said, "Oh-- I so have to shoot this one." and he kept going. "Stop! Where are you going?" "Well, you had your sarcastic voice on so I thought you were kidding. " (Admittedly, sarcastic voice is so prevalent it is often just "my voice".) I opened my door and took the picture and he says, a little loudly, "I thought you thought this one was too tacky or something. " Me-- "Shh! Way to go Dan! That guy is out in his driveway! He totally heard you!"
He, typical of Dan, who has a life-long ambition to become the best liked man on Earth, looked all worried and scanned around. No guy. Of course I was only messing with him. Rascally me.


Then we laughed our butts off and drove away. He boomed out in his loud announcer voice- "We're here for the Tacky Homes & Gardens photo shoot-- didn't anyone warn you?!" After we went home, plugged in our slightly leaning to the left tree, and watched the shows he video taped for me when I wasn't home earlier in the week. He drank his customary ridiculously huge mug of cocoa and rubbed my legs, and I obsessive-compulsively seeded a pomegranate, and we basked in our cat and humor filled homeyness. Ahh Christmasy luv.