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A wee rant on inflatable yard
decorations
By
Angeline Olschewski
December 10, 2007 | I don't remember reading about
the Abominable Snowman attending the birth of our Savior,
worshipping next to a shepherd, but that is the scene
portrayed on the lawn of a home on 200 North.
Along Highway 38 in Deweyville, you will find Mickey,
Minnie, Donald, Goofy and Pluto in quick succession
behind the Wise Men on course to worship the newborn
Christ child. Funny how the New Testament left out that
small detail. It smacks of Disney worshipping if you
ask me. Others have equally offended the boundaries
of commercial versus spiritual.
Maybe you don't have this beef with the season, but
I find it inappropriate to blend the "reasons for the
season" on the same patch of lawn. I would be appeased
if those people simply used the sidewalk leading up
to their door as a divider, putting the Nativity on
one side, and Santa or the Grinch on the other.
The offenses don't stop there. How about the folks
who turn on their Christmas lights just after Halloween?
Granted, Thanksgiving decorations are a little harder
to come by, merely because Wal-Mart doesn't sell inflatable
lawn turkeys. We should really talk to them about that.
I just got off the phone with Wal-Mart headquarters,
and in fact they do sell inflatable lawn turkeys. So
if you feel the need to adorn your lawn with tacky used
car lot gimmicks, $100 can buy you a fix. Actually,
I made that up. They don't sell blow-up turkeys, but
I'm sure some of you are halfway to your car with Visa
check card in hand. I know, I know. I can be so cruel.
Instead of the air-blown turkey, a better idea would
be to acquaint yourself with the farmers around here
and talk them out of some dried corn stalks and leftover
pumpkins. It would be like choosing crème brulée over
vanilla instant pudding. When it comes to yard art,
there's never room for J-E-L-L-O. A lovely fall scene
after Halloween would allow enough time for the appropriate
unveiling of all things Christmas.
Lest you discover my own Christmas shortcoming and
think me hypocritical, I will confess to listening to
SheDaisy's Christmas CD beginning in October. But unless
you're riding in my car or sitting in my home, you remain
unharmed by my dance with the devil. Yet no matter how
hard I try to avert my eyes, the neighbors' inflated
crocodile pulling Santa's sleigh in for a front row
view of the Baby Jesus catches my peripheral vision,
and burns my retinas.
I nearly gouged out my own eye when on yet another
lawn the Polar Express passed by Bethlehem's lowly manger
scene. Next year I fully expect to see the Magi kneeling
before the King with their gold, frankincense, and myrrh
followed closely by a polar bear with his Coca-Cola.
There are better ways to honor Him, and we can start
by giving the Nativity its own side of the yard.
NW
MS |
