In our corner of the world, we loved Christmas lights. In those days lights weren’t mini bulbs or LEDs, they were big honkin’ colored lights the size of a golf ball. People loved to string them out and light up the neighborhood for the holiday. In deep snow they provided a nice rainbow effect. Some families put up mangers on the front lawn. Some families had much more ambitious displays with elves, sleighs, and reindeer and on and on. Sometimes the theme was bit mottled. I remember once seeing Santa kneeling beside the three wise men. Donkey, camel and reindeer grazed together.
And, as is the case today, some people just went overboard. Most notably, I recall a barber on Brugh Avenue who emplaced a huge Santa on his roof. It must have taken a team effort. I envision the Marines raising the flag on Mount Surabachi.
Apparently mounting Santa was too much work and after one Christmas, when all of the “glass wax” decorations were gone from the windows and the expended trees and their saran wrap ice sickles had been picked up from the street, Santa continued to reign from the roof top. And he never left. Never. He was there all year, year after year. Soon he was part of the backdrop and was hardly noticeable. True, he would come to light around Christmas but it wasn’t so special anymore. I guess if the old man can’t disappear to the Pole for the better part of the year, he just wears out his welcome.