Hanging On to Christmas

It’s January 3rd and my neighbor still has a gajillion (I counted) Christmas lights up in her front yard. It’s lit up like a stadium over there.

I like them, but I was taught that it’s white trashy to have your Christmas lights on after New Year’s. You can leave them up all year round if you want (but that’s technically white trashy too), but if you turn them on Before Thanksgiving or After New Years, then, as Jeff Foxworthy says, “You might be a redneck.”

On the way home from the movie tonight (I saw, “We Bought a Zoo!” which was wonderful if you happen to like heart warming, feel good types of movies – I know this is not everyone’s cup of tea. Don’t get me started about blood and guts in movies. Why? Because I’m already off track with tonight’s subject and surely you don’t want me going even further afield? I didn’t think so.

On the way home from the aforementioned movie, I observed that about every 5th house still had their Christmas lights up. That equates to roughly 20% of the population in my neck of the woods being white trash, which seems much lower than the national average as seen on TV. My vision of the outside world as seen on TV may be skewed because the shows my husband gravitates to have names such as “Swamp People” and “Storage Wars.”

Not that there’s anything wrong with people making an honest living killing alligators and rummaging through other people’s abandoned storage units, but can you imagine the Rockerfellers or Kennedy’s engaged in these activities? I can just see one of these high-brows showing up boatside amongst the assorted crooked-toothed, scraggly-haired, cuss word slingin’, rifle-totin’ “stars” of one of those shows where they track down animals and shoot ‘em for their pelts right on TV.

“Oh, sorry there Mr. Rocketfeller, sir, but you jist steeped in a pile a gator shit right there.”

“Oh drat the luck, I will have to have my valet, James, sanitize them when we get back to our hotel suite.”

Judging from my TV, about 98% of the US population is white trash, and the other 2% are simply foul-mouthed, with beeps making up a good 70% of the dialogue. I bet they all still have their Christmas lights up.

Well, this is enough facts and figures for one evening. I have beat this dead horse senseless, and so I will ride him off into the sunset, where my path will be illuminated with the warmth of Christmas lights looking like Santa’s runway all up and down the January street.