Sorry to burst your balloon on Christmas decorations

Sorry to burst your balloon on Christmas decorations
by Lisa Black
Copyright © 2009, Chicago Tribune
December 21, 2009
http://www.chicagotribune.com/features/chi-talk-holiday-snob-columndec21,0,479878.story


I never thought of myself as a holiday snob, but now that the inflatable Santa Clauses and animated snow globes are once again popping out of front lawns like ginormous mushrooms, it's time to confess.

I shudder at how these inflatable creatures resemble a storefront promotion, the type where a guy stands outside in a gorilla suit holding a sign that advertises a close-out sale. Those are the places I try to avoid, all the while wondering if the gorilla really draws a crowd. The cartoonish yard figures shriek "tacky" to me, especially when they're arranged in groups or peering over a manger scene.

Isn't this one trend the recession could have killed?

But as with anything, aesthetics vary in the eye of the beholder. One man's whimsical drummer boy screams kitsch to the guy who displays the infamous vampy leg lamp from "A Christmas Story." Or how about those spotlights that beam a smiling Santa on the side of a house? Inevitably, the next-door neighbor prefers the soft glow of faux candles in every window.

A friend recently admitted a certain disdain for netted holiday lights -- those grid-like sheets of bulbs that can be draped over a bush with minimal effort -- although she had finally broken down and bought some out of convenience. Even then, she and her husband carefully arranged the lights so they appeared to be casually scattered within the foliage.

Our bushes have worn the colorful nets for several years, and while I don't find them offensive, I try not to look at them too closely in daylight. And yet, as I laughed at my friend's anti-nets sentiment, she accused me of being a tree elitist.

It's true. My family has tried the fake tree, with the bendable limbs and permanently attached lights. But we still prefer the fresh pine, even if I am constantly extracting the cats from its branches and scraping up needles well into the new year. Besides, I just learned that Addis Brush Co., the company known for inventing the fake tree, also manufactured toilet bowl brushes. Enough said.

Often we oppose new ideas -- or holiday decorations -- because they don't fit with our own traditions and memories. I grew up with a tree that had a hodgepodge of colorful lights and unmatched ornaments, including the do-it-yourself kind that were all the rage in the 1970s.

My dad and I made them by sticking pins and ribbons into satin balls, and they sure seemed cool at the time. The first year my parents put up a tree with white lights and matching bows was downright traumatic, even though I was already in high school at the time, and I was not very gracious about the change.

One holiday season, my husband lined our driveway with lights, and I had to stop myself from looking for the air traffic control tower every time we drove up.

Of course, none of the glitter is really important -- or relevant to the celebration of Christmas. And yet, I struggle to manage my hostility toward the giant inflatable decorations. They inevitably deflate and collapse after the first big storm. Even worse is when they remain partially inflated, leaving, for instance, a sagging snowman bent over as if he's suffering the ill-effects of too much eggnog at the office holiday party.

What's their appeal? I like to imagine that the owners are entertaining their young children, creating magical holiday memories. But as a kid, I would have been terrified by some of these characters, who rank alongside the crazy clowns or deranged dolls in my nightmares.

These over-the-top decorations also seem to beg for a prankster's attention. One year, my net-lights-snob friend found that a neighbor had strategically placed one of her light-up deer on top of another overnight, so that the two appeared to be mating. (Interesting, that my friend deemed light-up deer acceptable.) Vandals have already discovered the potential for inflatable mischief, pinching, puncturing and slashing the colorful air-bags, as noted in seasonal police reports.

My apologies to those who enjoy the monster Santas and globes with animated skaters inside. If you catch us with our unraveling crocheted reindeer, please feel free to snicker.

lblack@tribune.com