© 2002 Brian Hodges - Please do not remove the copyright from this essay

have never actually decked any of my halls with bows of holly. Though, one year I did Fun-Tak® the closet door with a poster of Cindy Crawford in a Santa hat. Fa la la la la, la la la la.

Growing up in my house, three decorations provided constant strife every Christmas. The first was our blinking star. Eight inches tall and imbedded with lights and silvery tinsel, it sat atop our tree, flashing and pulsating in no particular time or sequence. It cast the harshest, most searing white light that it probably had even the angels shielding their eyes. It's a good thing none of us were prone to seizures.

Every year, my mother spoke of retiring the star, and every year, she was vetoed. Sure, the star was annoying, and sure it had a tendency to slip off its perch... And yes, okay, it was annoying - and more than a little ironic - that this particular ornament only came with an eighteen-inch power cord, forcing us to run an extension every year. But come on, it was Christmas! Plus, our only other option was one of those phallic-looking aluminum ball-and-spike things - which I have never been able to figure out the religious or historical significance of. So the star has remained in its exalted position, unmoved to this day.

The second object of our frustration was a small, yet very lifelike dove ornament. It became an obsession because of the year one of our cats attacked the dove with vicious ferocity. I suspect that history has given way to legend with this particular story. What probably happened is that the cat merely walked by the dove, then stopped and sniffed at it just long enough for somebody to say, "Look, he thinks it's a real bird." Every Christmas after that - and I do mean every Christmas - we made sure to perch the dove on the lowest possible branch just to see if we could fool our cats once again. And every year, the cats have ceremoniously ignored the dove. They have not attacked. They have not sniffed. They have not engaged in so much as a double take to show that they give one rat's petutie about that bird.

There were even years when we went so far as holding the cats right in front of the tree and pointing their faces directly at the dove. "Look at the bird! Look at the bird! Look at the #$@% bird you @$$#*!!!" The first generation of cats has since died (probably from stress-related heart attacks), and a new one has settled in. And still, the dove sits at the bottom of the tree, untouched.

The third decoration of our discord was our Nativity set. Every year, my sister and I fought over who got to arrange the figurines. Being the oldest, I felt that I was entitled to the privilege. Plus, she always tried to make Mary and Joseph look like they were kissing. Blech! I always had new and innovative ideas on how to present the blessed event. Semi-circular arrangements of the wise men; strategic hanging of Christmas lights to give the scene a sexy glow; even an upside-down flashlight on the slatted roof to bathe Jesus in a halo of light. I knew how to showcase a freakin' virgin birth my Judeo-Christian friends.

I'm sure the fact that I was getting ssso ex-ssscited about interior desssign frightened my parents ssslightly, but I was determined to have my way. I'd hold the manger set over my head so my sister couldn't reach. I'd hide the sheep and shepherds so she couldn't find them. I'd wait until she'd set it all up, then go in and change everything, holding her back with my arm while she screamed at me to stop. Our bickering got so bad one year that we ended up breaking off Jesus' right arm.

Silent Night? Yeah right.

But when the smoke had cleared, and Christmas morning finally arrived, all was right with the world. The blinking light from the star never seemed too bright. The tree was never destroyed because of our pets' hunting instincts. And Jesus was always in his rightful place as the center of attention. And all of the bickering, the fighting and the petty annoyances of the season were pushed easily from our minds as we gathered around our tree as a family. And for one day, everything was perfect. It was Christmas.