It’s hard to let go of those traditions

By Ken Tingley

I am an infrequent shopper and rarely indulge myself with impulse frivolities. I suspect I have always been that way. I prefer to study my options, research products and make sure I choose the option that will get me the most bang for my buck.

But over the years, I have had one weakness - holiday blowups.

For the few inclined to this type of holiday decoration, these six-foot tall characters often blend in easily with their twinkling Christmas lights.

They first appeared in yards across the region some 20 or so years ago.

My first was a large snowman who was easily six-feet tall. I wanted to surprise my wife with a rare pre-holiday purchase. Our house is situated on a bluff overlooking the main road and 20 years ago the front yard provided a clear view of the road below.

I set up the snowman prominently in the front yard, staked him securely to the ground and surprised my wife with our new lawn ornament as she drove home from work.

That was the beginning.

Each year, I added a new blowup. First, there was a six-foot toy soldier, followed by a 12-foot tall toy soldier. There was Santa appearing out of a chimney and then retreating. Each year they proliferated until I had an army of blowups.

It became a tradition for me to scour the big-box scores each November for the latest incarnation and surprise my wife at the beginning of the holiday season.

As best as I can ascertain from my scrapbooks, the cornerstone of my collection arrived some 10 to 12 years ago. I remember walking into the store and seeing this monstrous hot air balloon rising in the corner of the Christmas decoration section with Santa standing in the basket. It had to be 15 feet tall.

I had to have it.

I was told the store was out.

I was told the only one left was the store display model.

I told them to box it up.

The rising of Santa in the hot-air balloon in the hours after Thanksgiving dinner became the opening salvo in Christmas cheer at my house. It was an announcement, a declaration that the holly-jolly-best-time-of-the-year had arrived.

While Gillian toiled inside, my responsibilities were the blow-ups. Over the years, there have been a half-dozen or more blowups at any one time, but the crown jewel has always been the hot air balloon.

We still have the 12-foot toy soldier to go along with Santa sleeping in a hammock under some palm trees. We added a giant orange octopus a few years ago and have penguins in a skating rink. There is big purple dragon peaking in my son’s bedroom window right now.

I’m not sure what many of these figures have to do with Christmas, but they always bring a smile to my face.

But like the balloons in the Adirondack Balloon Festival, wind can be a problem. So can heavy snow. Over the years, Santa’s hot air balloon has survived some significant weather events. The past couple years, the plastic base cracked and duct tape was needed to continue.

More duct tape was needed as the balloon rose this year. I mentioned this might be the balloon’s last stand. The balloon went up a little later than normal this year because we were traveling over Thanksgiving. A couple weeks ago we had that heavy wet snow. I inflated the balloon so that it would not be snowed in. But the wet snow kept coming. I noticed it was listing to one side. A gust of wind toppled it to one side and I heard a crack. The duct tape had given way.

I didn’t sleep well that night.

The next day I surveyed the damage fearing the worst. Two of the plastic joints at the base had given way. I removed the plastic poles that defined Santa’s basket and got the balloon inflated again, but without his basket, Santa looked a bit pathetic as if beaten down by life Or maybe that was just how I felt.

I was surprised at how much it bothered me.

I felt like I was losing an old friend who visited each holiday.

I felt like I was losing something.

The weather turned blustery again last week. When I awoke the next day, the balloon basket had toppled over again. The plastic poles had come lose. It was a wreck on the patio.

For a second, I considered tossing it all in the trash.

But my wife ordered new joints and we talked about a summer project to make Santa fly again. I patched the old guy together one more time and The balloon rose again on Christmas Eve as the people at the church below arrived for their service.

From the road, you can see the glow of holiday lights and several blowups with the balloon rising up. I don’t know what people think when they see it from the road. For me, it looks like a carnival glowing in the distance.

I’d like to think it is something more inspirational.

Maybe, they don’t notice it at all.

We made it through Christmas and I’m hoping I can save the balloon for another year, but all good things must eventually come to an end.

Until then, I’m going to hold as tightly to that one tradition as possible.

It’s integral to our Christmas.

It’s out tradition.

Podcast review

I was the featured interview on “The Vermont Conversation” last week.

If you get a chance I hope you can check out my discussion with David Goodman about newspapers and journalism.