Clark Griswold

Day: One Hundred and Twenty Five

Photo taken on Saturday, December 4, 2010 in front of the lit up TDM at 550pm. (The flurries towards the end of the lighting ceremony was a nice touch too.)

There is something so magical about putting up the lights on a crisp December day, wearing just a sweatshirt, nose running all over the place, sharp branches leaving scratches on your ungloved hands, and the hot chocolate you know Moma has waiting for you inside when all is complete. I've been doing this dance since as long as I can remember and I'm sure when I was a tyke I was in dad's way but now I'm more of a help than a burden (I hope). Every year I'm there to judge if the wreathes are evenly displayed in the windows (or in Greenlawn, under them) and decorate the hardest of trees (that Japanese Maple was a bitch!). One year we even went so far as to procure a cherry picker to do the huge Blue Spruce out front. Though as the years progressed the helpers decreased until it became just dad and I (or an occasional brother who popped out long enough to do roof duty since the two of us are terrified of heights). Then there was that one year when I kept badgering dad as to when we were hanging lights (he was being "Christmas Dad" and wasn't in the spirit to decorate) so he went outside to set up the plugs, dug out the box of white lights, grabbed me by the wrist, and took me outside to point out where the plugs were located. He grumbled 'Merry Christmas' (or what my innocent ears thought he grumbled) then left me out there to do the whole thing by myself. After a few hours he returned, a little jollier this time and helped me complete the task.

So this year he hires three people to do the icicle lights (thank Jesus, I really didn't want to climb up there) and we take care of the rest. I think my parents' house looks exceptional and definitely one of the most beautiful on the block.