Who first came up with the idea
of putting lights on houses for Christmas?
I’m sure we’ll never know. It is
a tradition in which I have participated off and on for my entire adult life,
sometimes under protest, sometimes not.
I am still a bit conflicted about the practice. On the one hand, I think maybe it devalues
the central reason for observing Christmas.
On the other hand, we live in a culture that celebrates birthdays by
throwing parties, so why wouldn’t we go all out to celebrate the birth of our
Lord? I do believe the line of
demarcation between tasteful celebration and irreverent gaudiness has been
crossed with illuminated snowmen, elf communities, commercial cartoon
characters, and singing and dancing Santas coming to life every time a motion
detector is tripped.
So, there I was today, on the
roof with my string of lights and clips that cling to the edges of the
composition shingles. It reminded me of
a song we in the community choir, The Amador Choraliers, have memorized, “Riggin’
Up the Lights.” It musically tells of
the plight of a husband who dutifully rigs up the neighborhood’s most exorbitant
light display, despite being afraid of heights.
I am not, medically speaking, afraid of heights. In my twenties, I worked my way through
seminary washing windows. It took some
time to get used to walking on narrow ledges ten stories above certain death,
but I did get used to it. I also grew accustomed
to being at the top of a 28’ ladder, in freezing temperatures, with a
screwdriver stuck in the frozen ground behind one of the ladder’s feet to keep
it from slipping down the slight slope of someone’s yard, using both hands to
wash a window. I did some nearly
miraculous things at the top of those ladders, and seldom had anything that
could be described as a moment of panic.
 |
| Bored with the house? |
So, why is it I felt so
uncomfortable on the roof of a one-story house today? Besides having watched Clark Griswald’s and
Tim Taylor’s antics many times over the years, I can think of a couple of possible explanations. Age is the first culprit that comes to
mind. I am no longer
twenty-something. I don’t feel like I am
sixty-two, but my knee, my shoulder and my back keep trying to convince
me. I also understand there is a
tendency for people to have equilibrium problems as they grow older. I believe I maybe, possibly, might have a spell while I'm up there. It could be all or some of these conditions
combined to give me pause standing on shingles 16’ above a very hard
porch. Everything I had to do up there
today had to be done at the edge of the gabled cliff, on a roof with a rather
steep pitch. The pitch seemed much
steeper when my feet occasionally slipped an inch or two. Yes, age could have been the immediate cause
of my anxiety.
Wisdom could also be the
offender. I have noticed a marked
increase in the amount of wisdom I possess now compared to when I was
twenty-something. Much of that is
derived, unavoidably, from my twenty-something experiences. Wisdom also increases with
responsibility. I can’t afford to hit
the ground from 16’ up. I no longer
bounce as I once did. I no longer heal
as quickly as I used to. I just can’t
get away with being stupid as often as I once could. Old-guy life is much more unforgiving than
young-guy life. Today, when I set the
ladder for my ascent, I made sure it was on flat ground. I moved slowly across the sanded surface that
is composition roofing material. I sat
while near the precipice of the roof. I
waited until my wife was home before taking on the elevated task. These periods of wise behavior are a direct
result of a vast accumulation of knowledge over five decades filled with some
rather unwise decisions and actions.
Yes, wisdom may be the greater contributor to my uneasiness today.
Oh, for the opportunity to
combine the wisdom of age with the body of youth! What task would I not eagerly accept and
enthusiastically carry out? God has not
destined us for such super powers. He has
given us older, wiser folks opportunities to transmit our wisdom to one or two
successive generations. Unfortunately,
he has apparently equipped those younger generations with exceptional abilities
to ignore all such attempts by older, wiser generations. Evidence of this is the number of men injured using extension ladders while riggin' up the Christmas tree lights every year. This wintertime accident is second only to the number of people who chop their hands off while snowmobiling.*
The lights are up on the house
roofline. No bones were broken. No bruises were made. No blood was spilled. All in all, it was a quite successful day.
*[Accident statistic retrieved from http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20091008144357AAWDP6n]
No comments:
Post a Comment