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Very illuminating A Bright Idea for ChristmasBy Rick Horowitz
This time, she's taking matters into her own hands. She -- who's done this sort of thing every December for decades -- has considered the recent past, her family's typical decorative efforts, and has come to a conclusion: The bottom of the tree is always too dark. He -- whose experience in these matters is so much skimpier than hers, whose idea of holiday incandescence is a fistful of candles flickering on a window sill -- wouldn't dream of disagreeing. Actually, he's dreaming of disagreeing at this very moment. But he knows better than to say a word. When she's on a mission, there's no stopping her. She knows what the problem is, and she knows exactly how to fix it: This time, she'll start stringing the bulbs from the bottom of the tree. In years gone by, the trimmers have invariably started at the top of the tree, draping the strands loosely along the branches, spiraling down toward the base until all the bulbs in the arsenal have been deployed. The whole thing takes 20 minutes, tops, and then it's on to the artificial cranberries, and then the ornaments. He's the outsider, the relative newcomer; he's impressed with every year's results. He had no idea she held a dimmer view. "The bottom is always too dark," she says now. That's about to change. They've got four strands of bulbs -- one 100-bulb strand, and three 50-bulbers: 250 shiny white bulbs in all. While he concentrates on untangling the off-season knots, she moves in on the lowest branches with the longest strand. And she doesn't just drape and go, drape and go. Not even close: She carefully weaves each bulb deep into the tree, safe and solid among the dark green needles. Around the tree she moves -- slowly, lovingly -- and then around again. And again. Finally, the first strand is done; 100 bulbs have found new homes. She's barely six inches up the tree. "I guess I kind of crowded them in," she says. (He wouldn't dream of disagreeing.) She grabs the first of the 50-bulb strands, plugs it into the longer strand and continues her weaving and circling, weaving and circling. Then the next strand, and then the next. When at last she's finished, night has fallen, but the tree looks totally transformed from previous years; it's absolutely luminous. Actually, the bottom half is absolutely luminous. The top half is absolutely...empty. She's strung all 250 bulbs, and she's only made it halfway to the top. Now what? There's a drug store still open in the neighborhood; she dashes out the door and soon returns with another box of 100 bulbs -- and two more boxes of 50s. "Just for backup," she assures him. He marvels at just how little territory 100 bulbs can cover when they're strung tight against one another. She's at 350 bulbs now, and she's still only two-thirds of the way up the tree. To his utter non-surprise, the "backup" bulbs don't stay "backup" very long -- first one strand comes out of its box, then the other. She's at 450 bulbs now. This pleasant little tree is sporting the total wattage of an average used-car lot. But she's not sure she's got it yet. She's been at this thing for more than three hours, and it's time to call it a night. She hasn't gone near the artificial cranberries, not to mention the ornaments. But bulb-wise, she's still worried. "The top looks a little sparse," she says. (He wouldn't dream of...) And the next time she's in the drug store, she picks up another three boxes of 50s. That makes 600 bulbs -- but why assume she'll stop at 600? She seems thoroughly determined to make this year's tree the brightest, the most radiant tree they've ever had. He's beginning to see the light. Posted 12/20/01.
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Rick Horowitz
