Professor Locs, aka Charles Easley, is an educator who explores race, class, gender, sexuality, media and popular culture with humor and insight. His column is published here each Wednesday. Opinions expressed are solely his own. Click here to read his blog.

Money, much like a pair of Kim Kardashian jeans, is tight this year. I know I am not the only one feeling the pinch of the recession. Here at my home, we’d resolved ourselves to have a laid-back Christmas with minimal fuss — but a strand of blue lights changed all of that in an instant.  

I was walking past the hallway and saw across the street that our new neighbor had placed a continual strand of blue icicle lights on his house. 

The retired couple that lived there before was rarely here during the holidays, as they only used the home a few weeks out of the year, so we never had much competition from them.  

Our new neighbor’s lights, however, flipped a switch in my brain. I was like a decorating bull and someone had just thrown a red, yet tasteful, faux-fur throw in my path. We are an old-school gay couple; we could not be outdone by a young straight dude with blue lights.   

A decorating plan was immediately put into action. I went into the attic and storage shed to take stock of what supplies we had on hand. I had a somber moment when I realized that our mechanical deer, which had been a historical staple of our decorating theme, had to be put down last year. One deer’s backlights had gone out, so he looked like a weird, spectral, hunting lodge remnant suspended in mid air. The other deer, whose head originally would move majestically from side to side, later slumped forward in an endlessly eerie post-SUV-hit-and-run spasm. Sad!

We had a giant wreath that was missing lights, but that was an easy fix. I hung it dead center in our picture window. I then wrapped the strategic poodle bushes at the front of the house with white lights — but now the left side looked vacant. We splurged for two modern circular trees that would both illuminate and bring balance to the left side of our Christmas composition. Take that Mr. Blue Lights!

I was very pleased with myself until I was coming home a few days later and drove past our other neighbor’s house. That house was like a scene from Disneyland’s It’s a Small World ride. How could two elderly people with walkers get this much work done? I stopped the car and got out to survey the competition. Another red faux-fur throw had been thrown in my path, but this one had sequins!

Almost every inch of their lawn was covered in lights and décor. They even had a nativity scene! I was lost in thought as how I could transform our kiddy pool and autumn scarecrows into our own makeshift nativity scene when something caught my eye. Among all the holiday décor, I noticed two old-school plastic candles that said Noel.  

It was like someone had shaken one of those snow globes, and I was immediately transported back to my childhood.  

I grew up in the inner city of Houston during the ’70s and pre-Martha Stewart white light holiday décor.  This was the age of multicolored big bulb lights, and large lit freestanding plastic decorations were all the rage.   

Cue Donny Hathaway’s “This Christmas.” A big treat for us after visiting relatives during the holidays was to have our mom drive us through the neighborhood and gawk at Christmas lights. There was one special home in particular — owned by an elderly white couple that, due to either decision or circumstance, did not escape during the great white flight of families to the suburbs. Their entire front lawn was turned into a Christmas Toy Land.  

They had giant lollipops, snowflakes, several Santas, candy canes, reindeer, a nativity scene and scores of lights and plastic figures. I am sure in today’s extreme decorating of giant balloons and thousands of lights synced to music, their house was modest in comparison; but to us, they created a wonderful holiday childhood memory.  

I came back to myself smiling in tearful reflection, standing in front of my neighbor’s yard in the cool December night air and again surveyed their creation including their retro plastic figures. The red faux-fur throw had been replaced with a holiday wreath of appreciation and thankfulness.

My neighbors had given me a gift like the elderly couple from my childhood. Yes, money is still tight and there will be fewer gifts exchanged this year, but we can still celebrate Christmas memories past and rejoice in the new ones we create.  

So Merry Christmas to all … especially to you Mr. Blue Lights. 

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