Deck Orations
Posted on December 16, 2014 under Storytelling with no comments yet
The totality of our outdoor decorations
I hear the opening notes of the Vince Gill Christmas CD and my pulse quickens.
My mixed feelings about Christmas surface once again as December moves into full gear. For most of us, the notion of family, food and fellowship are the three pillars of the holiday season. Some folks pay heed to the simple story of Christmas giving, while others see it as a license for a full scale shopping orgy. Can you say “Black Friday”? And when I see the neighbors starting to create their outdoor masterpieces, I know the time has come.
Marriage is about division of labour, and nowhere is this more evident than during the Christmas season. I do a lot of the prep work for Christmas dinner, I deliver gifts to family members and relatives and I put up the exterior decorations. We trim the tree together and my wife does everything else, including buying her own Christmas present from me. I did not say that the division of labor was equal!
Once the crèche is in place and the advent calendar is hanging in the kitchen, I know that stalling tactics will not cut it. I must go to the basement and gather up the decorations and assemble them on our front deck.
For many people, decorating is possibly the most satisfying part of the holiday season. We have friends who go to elaborate lengths to turn their homes and properties into show pieces. The results are often quite stunning. Some neighbors switch up their entire house to leave no doubt that Christmas is fast approaching. The sheets on the beds, towels and face clothes and all of their dishes are resplendent with Christmas joy.
And then, there is us.
As we get older we continue to aspire to simplicity. One thing that we don’t have to downsize is our collection of Christmas decorations, because we have always displayed a minimalist streak. That is a charitable way of saying that we might possibly have the worst outdoor decorations in the free world. Just ask our children. The word that most often crosses their lips is “pathetic”.
In a large pale green plastic tub lies the totality of our baubles: several lengths of fake garland, a half a dozen strings of multi-coloured outdoor lights, and 15 red plastic bows. Yes kids; we still haven’t discovered the magic of twinkling clear bulbs. No floodlights, no deer that glitter and move as if they are about to take flight. Gosh, we don’t even have an inflatable Santa.
I love our front deck. It is the best part of our house, at least in the summer when a large maple tree and shrubbery provide a cool canopy on hot summer days. And privacy. But in December, the front desk is exposed and naked. There is nowhere to hide, which is problematic for me as I head out to put up the decorations.
I try to choose a day when the conditions are optimal. It’s not much fun trying to wrap the garland around the railings when it’s bitterly cold, snowing or pouring rain. I know from years of experience (and a plethora of expletives), that checking the lights is always the first thing I do. I plug in each of the strings individually in an outdoor outlet. Invariably, one of them has mysteriously died over the previous twelve months. They must lose their will to live from the constant humiliation I put them through, year after year.
How long does it take to give the exterior of our house the look and feel of Christmas? Unless I am called in to answer the phone or have to take a bathroom break, it’s an hour. Tops. And that includes going to the hardware store around the corner to replace a string of lights. (And switching the bright orange extension cords for the green ones, in the bag clearly marked “for outdoor decorations” – Editor)
When I’m finished I have this little ritual. I step out onto the street after the onset of darkness to admire my work, the “miracle of Christmas”, as it were. But there is no miracle. It looks the very same as it has for the past 32 years. I mumble something about “next year it will be different”, but I know deep down that this is a big, fat lie.
Next year we might take the family to Florida for Christmas to avoid the humiliation of being the “worst decorated house in Antigonish”. It’s hardly necessary to decorate a beach.
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