There's a house I've just noticed out in West Seattle. It was a house that blended into the scenery only a month ago, a house that I barely looked at as I walked a long-haired Dachshund named Riley past its chain-link fence. A nice house, to be sure, but nothing about it caught my attention. Until last week. During the first week of October, this house was transformed from an unassuming ranch to a razzle dazzle Christmas cabin. I'm talking multiple manger scenes in the yard, lights strung across the fences and walkways and front and back porches, gingerbread houses on the inside windowsills. The display grows each day, staple-gunned into place by an elderly man who wears a red jacket and red-brimmed cap. That's not to say he resembles Santa. On the contrary, he's thin and from what I can tell, he's not very jolly. Each morning I see him at work, and I keep hoping he'll look up and we can share a smile or something, so I can let him know that someone notices and, well, enjoys the fruits of his labors. Because I do, I totally dig on this October Christmas display, especially as I pass the houses nearby with Halloween decor scattered about their yards. It's almost like this man is saying SCREW YOU to their holiday of haunts and shouting out loud that Christmas is the best holiday EVER! In truth, I don't think that's in any way what he's up to, but I like to play out the possible internal monologue in his head as I walk by:
"These kids with all their hobgoblins and witchery, don't know a thing about what real holiday spirit feels like, they just want candy candy candy and like to throw toilet paper in people's trees, weeeeeeeeellllll I'll teach them a thing or two about holiday spirit, the GOOD kind of spirit, not these ghosty things they like to dress up like, crazy kids with their crazy candy habits, next thing you know they'll be dressing up any crazy way they feel like any darned day of the year, but don't they already, don't they already dress up like it's Hall-o-ween every day, with their long hair and earrings in every place you can think of and shoes that make no good sense to walk in, crazy kids with their crazy holidays, we'll just see what they think when they see this little baby Jesus swaddled in his manger, he doesn't need any crazy costume because he is perfect just as he is and his birthday is the perfect holiday, who wouldn't think so, who wouldn't choose gingerbread over tricks and treats and maybe this year when they come ringing my doorbell asking for candy I'll give them all candy canes or better yet I'll give them some toothpaste to ward off the tooth rot and tell them to come back in 2 months for a gingerbread man, that's what I'll do..."
Honestly, I feel sad when I walk by and see him working. I feel sad because I've never seen anyone else near the house, and so I imagine that he's alone. I imagine that he and his wife shared this house for many happy years, and they always loved Christmas, always loved the decorations and the festive spirit and the music and all things Christmas. I imagine that she passed away some time ago, leaving him alone with the decorations, and now he can't wait until it's time to put them up again, because it gives him something to do, a purpose of sorts, while he tries not to miss her so desperately. The first week of October, and he's already covered the house in lights, he's already covered the yard in plastic snowmen and candy canes. Who does this? I get annoyed when stores have Christmas displays up before Thanksgiving, but even retail doesn't start this soon. Who does this? Maybe he's just kooky for Christmas, I don't know. I hope so. I hope he's the happiest man in his neighborhood. But until the day he decides to look up from his labors and share a smile with me, I can't help but have my heart break a little as I walk on by.
The rainy season is upon us.
Just so this post doesn't end on a note of heartbreak, here's a picture of Riley the Dachshund:
Is that a face you'd be happy to see each morning or what?
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