the blowups

On my block, we were late to the game…we waited until Thanksgiving weekend to do the holiday decorating routine. Pretty much everyone else’s house resembled Candyland meets Las Vegas just 24 hours after the last trick-or-treater rang the doorbell. It’s so bright all night long, in fact, that I can’t really discern the sunrise from the perpetual glow. And the streets are rife with every sort of blow-up character imagineable: penguins suffocating in snowglobes, giant menacing polar bears, pillowy snowmen, and even The Simpsons. I refuse to jump on that bandwagon….well, at least until I can find a glowing, inflatable, holiday Lance Armstrong.

So now our lights are up and nobody got hurt. More specifically, my wife did not get hurt. I can do the ladder thing as long as it is on stable ground, but alas the ladder that we borrowed was no match for our lofty roofline. That only meant one thing: someone would have to crawl out of a window and do the Flying Wallenda act on the roof. There must be some sort of survival instinct that kicks in as you get older, because I never remember having a debilitating, pants-wetting fear of heights as a younger lad. Not one for senseless acts of bravado simply to imply manliness, I graciously accepted my wife’s selfless offer to wander out into blustery treachery. All I could do was watch nervously with sweaty palms and failing antiperspirant as she gracefully crawled out onto the roof from our guest room window. Had it been me, I would have been paralyzed with fear until the nice firemen came to get me down in time for dinner. But this woman, my wife, had all the strength and courage of a professional roofer, surefooted and deft. I could hear the snickers and comments of passersby, my face wrought with angst as I called out through the window, “PLEASE be careful!! Do you want your bike helmet?” Oh sure, go ahead and laugh. At least I can admit my fears.

Terrible thoughts entered my mind. What if she fell? How long would it take paramedics to get here? Would we be on the news? Would she end up paralyzed, or worse? How could I ever survive without my soulmate? How much is her life insurance policy worth again? No amount of cash could ever replace her! Oh God, I should be the one up there because if I slipped and was killed, my family would be better off financially!

Eventually, she came in and the relief was overwhelming. The lights look great and I couldn’t have done a better job myself, especially with my hands trembling like a frightened chihuahua. Our house doesn’t look Griswaldian, it doesn’t blind pilots flying overhead, and there certainly won’t be traffic jams to behold its incandescent splendor. It's very simple, and it feels like home for the holidays.

The kids love to go for a drive to see the fantastic displays around the area, seeking out “the blow ups” as they call the inflated things. It’s a chance to get them out and about to behold the merriment of the season. After all…if we had all those accoutrements, there would be no reason to leave the house. Holiday lights, whether larger than life, or simple and traditional, reflect as magic and sheer joy in the eyes of a child. This wonderful season is all too fleeting, and soon it will be time to decide just who will be the one to get up on the roof again.