Christmas Spotlights

“Bah! Humbug!” I suspect that Charles Dickens first put those words on his villain’s lips right after he strung the outdoor Christmas lights.

When we moved into a neighborhood that boasts an outdoor holiday lighting contest, it sounded like fun. Then I met my neighbor.

He thinks of himself as “Father Christmas.” I think of him as the “Christmas Enforcer.”

The first Thanksgiving weekend in our new neighborhood, we awakened to a fracas across the street. Noting industrial equipment and six beefy laborers, we assumed the start of major construction. But the workers toiled overtime turning our neighbor’s house into a Winter Wonderland. No roof shingle was unadorned; no square inch of sod spared. A dozen exterior power circuits kept the electric meter spinning and various holiday symbols sparkling. The display could be seen from outer space.

And then our neighborhood turned into a Winter Wonder Traffic Jam. We needed parachutes to skydive into our driveway or a toy soldier to direct traffic. From early evening until late at night, vehicles snaked through the neighborhood. In response to the noxious exhaust fumes, we strapped a gas mask on our lawn Santa.

Still we were determined to outdo our competitive neighbor, whose skill level rivaled Disney animation engineers. Moving characters and animals illuminated his property. When he talked about “lighting up a camel,” he wasn’t referring to smoking cigarettes.

In anticipation of the next season, we sprinted to after-Christmas sales to increase our lighting stockpile and acquired enough bulbs to light up the Empire State Building and King Kong.

Our enthusiasm dampened the year my husband fell off the roof.

In tribute to his dairy farming heritage, he’d featured Holstein cows among the traditional manger herd surrounding Baby Jesus. While replacing burned-out lights, he lost his footing. Luckily, his fingers grabbed a Holstein’s udder, constructed from kitchen rubber gloves, and broke his fall. Asphalt burns and a severely sprained ankle resulted. He hobbled on crutches, imitating Tiny Tim, throughout the remaining season. And he believes that the only thing between him and the Husband Hereafter was a lone, dangling teat.

Sadly, our roof wished onlookers “erry Christmas.”

Since we’ve sworn off outdoor lighting, The Enforcer strides over every year to pressure us into participating. I suspect he studied arm twisting with Hulk Hogan.

I broke it to him gently that we’d given up outdoor decorating, assuming that would suffice. He sputtered disbelief, his face turning Christmas red. Going straight for the real-meaning-of-Christmas defense, I promised we’d still celebrate Christmas indoors and in our hearts. Neighbor was unimpressed.

When reason didn’t work, I advanced to avoidance. Since the peevish neighbor usually accosted me at the curb where I retrieve mail, I considered digging a tunnel to my mailbox. If guilt could be distributed, The Enforcer would own a franchise.

Trying to promote Peace on Our Street, I create non-decorating ideas.

Last year, I referred to my darkened lot’s theme as “Gone With the Wind,” explaining that’s where my decorations were. Neighbor almost smiled.

A friend swears she once drove by an unadorned home featuring a huge black arrow pointing to the Temple of Ten Million Christmas Lights next door. I’m tempted to plagiarize that for next year’s theme--the arrow, not the lights.

Alas, my husband still suffers PTCD (Post Traumatic Christmas Decoration) flashbacks. In a recurring nightmare, his death certificate floats by listing the cause of his untimely demise as “Death by Udder.”

I can’t wait until The Enforcer hears this year’s theme! I’ve decided on “Santa’s Workshop in a Power Outage.” He might prefer a “For Sale” sign.

Hope Sunderland is a registered nurse who's retired her enema bucket and bedpan. A freelance writer, she wrote a humor column for Gulf Coast Lifestyles, and has been published in ByLine Magazine, Journal of Nursing Jocularity, Daily Probe, and is a Hall of Fame contributor to TopFive.com, whose lists have been featured in Readers Digest, The New York Times, network news shows and plagiarized by radio disc jockeys across the nation.