Far away, by time if not by distance, at an appointed night not divulged to the children, families abandoned their normal evening routine to observe a Christmas tradition.
When supper was eaten, the dishes cleared and washed, the children bathed and pajamaed, dad would announce: “Let’s go look at the lights.”
Everyone loaded into the family car (this was a time when families typically had just one) and dad would drive slowly through the neighborhoods of town, looking at all the Christmas lights on the houses.
“Look! There’s a Santa Claus on the roof of that one!” a child would squeal and the child pile resumed. “Let me see! Me, too! Move over!”
For an hour, maybe, the family drove through neighborhoods, admiring what seemed to be an endless parade of lights — Santas, reindeer, Nativity scenes, even snowmen, all lit brightly against the dark December night.
This was especially true in the more affluent neighborhoods, where every house seemed to be smothered in lights, as if there was some sort of unspoken competition among neighbors. But even the homes of those of more modest means paid some sort of electrified homage to the season. A two-room shotgun house was made lovely by a single simple strand of lights strung along the roof-line of the little home.
It is difficult to know to what extent this tradition has continued.
It has been a long time since we heard the proclamation, “Let’s go look at the lights!” and far fewer homes — fine or modest — are adorned in lights and Christmas displays.
That is why we are encouraged by what we see this year. The tradition may be making a comeback, if our observations are correct. It seems more folks are decorating the exteriors of their homes — displays that range from understated simplicity — strings of white lights framing garlands of green with red bows and berries — to unapologetically gaudy — towering inflatable Santas and snowmen against a choreographed light show set to Christmas music.
It couldn’t come at a better time, we believe.
In his “Tales of Narnia,” C.S. Lewis told of a bleak land where it was “always winter, but never Christmas.”
Doesn’t it sometimes seem as if he was describing our world today? Our world has never seemed so dangerous or its people more bitterly divided — a hard cold winter has descended upon our souls.
Christmas seems to change that, somehow. We are never closer to our better selves than we are at Christmas. If only briefly, we are able to tear ourselves away from the angst and anger, the fear and frustration the daily assault of electronically-delivered horrors brought to us through the 24-hour news cycle.
And if there is no cure, Christmas reminds us there is, at least, a treatment.
We recommend heavy doses of Christmas cheer and its magical power to lift the spirit and soften the heart.
Find a crowd of shoppers and dissolve into it. Attend Christmas plays and concerts. Go to Saturday’s Christmas Parade in downtown Columbus.
Pajama the kids, pile into the car and go roaming through the neighborhoods in search of those wonderful lights and the music of little voices they inspire:
“Oh, look at that one!”
“Let me Look!”
“Me, too!”
The Dispatch Editorial Board is made up of publisher Peter Imes, columnist Slim Smith, managing editor Zack Plair and senior newsroom staff.
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