They were out of place. They were tacky. They were left up from the year before. Behold, the string of red-neck Christmas lights:
I could be trying to make myself feel a little better right now. I put our out-door Christmas lights up yesterday, but Mike forbid me from turning them on for fear of being “red-neck.” In the interest of keeping harmony in the nearly-peaceful season, I appeased him (suchagrinch) and have agreed to hold off from filpping the switch for a few more days. But you know what? I’m fairly convinced that that string of early Christmas lights? It’s now a norm. I’m certainly not the first on the street, in the neighbourhood, the City to string a line or two. Christmas Fever started and it started early.
And it seems to be coming earlier and earlier every year.
This is a weird thing for me to draw negative attention to because usually I’m the one who’s Christmas crazy. Like so Christmas crazy when I was a kid I used listen to my Christmas tapes in the summertime. You don’t have to twist my arm to tell me to pull out the holly.
The thing is, I’m encountering more and more people like me. There are more of us out there: we’re legitimately excited -about- Christmas-adults.
And you know what we’ve done in the process? We’re liberators. We’ve broken down the sorts of social barriers that civil rights movements have been trying to crack for decades: We’ve de-stigmatized the Christmas Red-neck. (You’re Welcome.)
So here we are, on November 15, a generation of kids who were given magical Christmases every year in our childhood. We built our lists for Santa when the Sears Wish Catalogue arrived on our doorstep in late September. And now we’re grown up, and still clinging to the magic of the season.
But in my opinion, there could be worse things.