Touring light displays tradition for a local family
By Theresa Martin
Special to the Pinnacle
Our family’s favorite holiday traditions just happened, and the
effort expended was worth the results, so we just keep doing it
year after year.
Touring light displays tradition for a local family
By Theresa Martin
Special to the Pinnacle
Our family’s favorite holiday traditions just happened, and the effort expended was worth the results, so we just keep doing it year after year.
One that has spanned our toddler through teenage years is touring holiday light displays. We marvel at the extent some neighbors go. Draping every eve and gable with strand upon strand of electricity fed light bulbs seems to have become as much a friendly competition between neighbors as it is a show for the passersby. The feat is preceded by weeks of planning, untangling miles of light strands, several return trips to the hardware store and seemingly dozens of trips up and down a ladder. Whatever the motivation, the resulting show is spectacular.
At the ages of 2 and 3 years, my son and daughter seemed to have more energy pulsating through their tiny little beings at bed time than perhaps any other time of day. That old parent standby of driving around the block to put them to sleep was definitely in my bag of tricks.
“Let’s go see the Christmas lights,” I had said, almost too enthusiastically. I thought they might be on to my scheme, so I upped the bribe. “And Bogus can go too,” I added. A sure clincher; Bogus is our faithful Beagle and the kids adore him.
“O.K. Yights.-yights- outside. Yeaaaa, O-.Kay,” the chorus coming in what I call “toddler speak.” The animated hop, side-step and bounce, bounce, bounce across the floor guaranteed I had their cooperation.
First stop was the drive-through coffee hut. Taking warm sips of coffee between loud refrains of “Over the River and Through the Woods to Grandmother’s House We Go,” our white minivan transformed into a golden one-horse, or rather one-dog, open sleigh. We were treated to twinkling colors, animated snowmen, life-sized crèches, and even train displays set in snow villages. Street upon street we went until soon the van turned quiet. With sleeping little angels I steered back home, my mission accomplished – peace on earth.
Those toddlers are now teenagers, newly permitted and licensed, eager to drive. So when my enthusiastic cry came to go see the Christmas lights this year, they were ready and willing to go, as long as they could drive.
Over the years the zip-up footie pajamas have given way to lined knit gloves and matching scarves. Macadamia nut biscottis and lattes have replaced those gooey teething biscuits. Gone is the minivan, in its place is a midsized SUV.
One glowing street turning into another, we talk about how things have changed and how much remains the same. We talk about whose turn it is to drive. My eyelids start to feel heavy and I’m thankful for this tradition that has spanned the years. Holiday music is playing softly on the radio and the lights begin to blur through the fogged windows of Bogus’ panting.
“Mom? Hey mom, wake up. We’re home.”
