Sunday, November 21, 2004
There is an addiction as yet unrecognized by any physcologist. I admit to having been afflicted by this disorder for a number of years and have always chosen to refer to it as a "hobby", but in the last few days I've come to realize that this innocent pastime can easily become an obsession and yes, a full blown addiction. Not only that, it seems it can be passed unknowingly to others, especially close family members! Just yesterday I had to face the fact that not only was I addicted, I had somehow unwittingly infected my sister Nancy.
Some may scoff but the newest addiction is........Christmas Village collectibles!! Now, before you disolve into fits of laughter and dismiss this as a silly notion, let me lead you along the progression of this all-consuming holiday malady.
Well doctor, it all began innocently enough when my children were young. I had always loved the Christmas season and it's sparkling decorations. As a child I was fascinated by the intricate display at the Dundalk firehouse featuring running trains, lighted houses and landscaped scenes. I could spend hours just staring at the moving lights and vehicles, longing to be at the controls. Although my father had set up a train platform in our living room, it couldn't match the grand scale of the firehouse display.
Wanting to give my kids some sense of the wonder of my childhood experience, I purchased a battery operated train and some small inexpensive houses. As I set up my small village scene complete with snow (OK so it wasn't REAL snow), I declared the Christmas season had officially begun. Of course my kids had no idea of how sacred this little display was to be until one day when I returned home and, horror of horrors, found the houses had been rearranged! Hyperventilating, I put things back in order and, calming myself, explained that these were Mom's toys...look with your eyes, not your hands became the recurring chant of the season.
And in just a few short years, IT happened. The battery operated train was replaced by a large scale electric train, the little houses were joined by Department 56 collectible houses. People and trees inhabited various villages, each with a theme. Over the years, with encouragement from my husband, the Christmas display began to take on a life of it's own, growing and expanding until it took over three rooms in the house. Animated people were added, fiber-optic angels moved and glowed, ornaments on the tree revolved. Music, lights and motion were everywhere and still I denied that this was anything more than just enjoying the season. Maybe the year we put the living room furniture into storage to allow more room for the villages and constructed hanging platforms for the train tracks and North Pole should have given me the first clue that perhaps I had a serious problem. But as I explained to Nancy when she would look at me like I had completely lost my mind, devoting eight hours to making one scene as perfect and realistic as possible was just being creative. Besides, I found it as theraputic as she found gardening.
Sure, the years we had tour groups coming to see our display and found ourselves on the front of our local paper's Homes section might have been a teensy bit over the top. And so what if I started putting things up in October and left this massive display up untill Super Bowl?!! Just because the pizza delivery guy referred to us as The Christmas House and didn't need to ask the address didn't mean we were obsessed...or did it?
The light finally dawned this weekend as I shopped with my sister and her husband at a wonderful Christmas store in Florida and I watched a familiar light come into her eyes as we walked around the displays, pointing and oohing at the houses, the animation and detailed inhabitants and backgrounds. Two hours later we emerged with our purchases, sharing new ideas for scenes and babbling contentedly about Department 56 versus Lemax. Watching Nancy wrestle with the decision between the lighthouse or the train station, I looked into those bright happy eyes and said "You're addicted too!!".
Knowing that there are collectors' groups and many devotees to our particular compulsion, I think the problem is more widespread than we know. I'm sure some would suggest therapy but none is needed. You see, lovingly putting together our villages and adorning them with lights and people is our therapy. And for me, gazing at the finished product and watching the eyes of my children and granchildren light up when they enter my Christmas Wonderland fills me with a sense of joy that is well worth the effort of putting it all together. Besides, isn't there still a "little kid" inside of all of us at Christmas?
Some may scoff but the newest addiction is........Christmas Village collectibles!! Now, before you disolve into fits of laughter and dismiss this as a silly notion, let me lead you along the progression of this all-consuming holiday malady.
Well doctor, it all began innocently enough when my children were young. I had always loved the Christmas season and it's sparkling decorations. As a child I was fascinated by the intricate display at the Dundalk firehouse featuring running trains, lighted houses and landscaped scenes. I could spend hours just staring at the moving lights and vehicles, longing to be at the controls. Although my father had set up a train platform in our living room, it couldn't match the grand scale of the firehouse display.
Wanting to give my kids some sense of the wonder of my childhood experience, I purchased a battery operated train and some small inexpensive houses. As I set up my small village scene complete with snow (OK so it wasn't REAL snow), I declared the Christmas season had officially begun. Of course my kids had no idea of how sacred this little display was to be until one day when I returned home and, horror of horrors, found the houses had been rearranged! Hyperventilating, I put things back in order and, calming myself, explained that these were Mom's toys...look with your eyes, not your hands became the recurring chant of the season.
And in just a few short years, IT happened. The battery operated train was replaced by a large scale electric train, the little houses were joined by Department 56 collectible houses. People and trees inhabited various villages, each with a theme. Over the years, with encouragement from my husband, the Christmas display began to take on a life of it's own, growing and expanding until it took over three rooms in the house. Animated people were added, fiber-optic angels moved and glowed, ornaments on the tree revolved. Music, lights and motion were everywhere and still I denied that this was anything more than just enjoying the season. Maybe the year we put the living room furniture into storage to allow more room for the villages and constructed hanging platforms for the train tracks and North Pole should have given me the first clue that perhaps I had a serious problem. But as I explained to Nancy when she would look at me like I had completely lost my mind, devoting eight hours to making one scene as perfect and realistic as possible was just being creative. Besides, I found it as theraputic as she found gardening.
Sure, the years we had tour groups coming to see our display and found ourselves on the front of our local paper's Homes section might have been a teensy bit over the top. And so what if I started putting things up in October and left this massive display up untill Super Bowl?!! Just because the pizza delivery guy referred to us as The Christmas House and didn't need to ask the address didn't mean we were obsessed...or did it?
The light finally dawned this weekend as I shopped with my sister and her husband at a wonderful Christmas store in Florida and I watched a familiar light come into her eyes as we walked around the displays, pointing and oohing at the houses, the animation and detailed inhabitants and backgrounds. Two hours later we emerged with our purchases, sharing new ideas for scenes and babbling contentedly about Department 56 versus Lemax. Watching Nancy wrestle with the decision between the lighthouse or the train station, I looked into those bright happy eyes and said "You're addicted too!!".
Knowing that there are collectors' groups and many devotees to our particular compulsion, I think the problem is more widespread than we know. I'm sure some would suggest therapy but none is needed. You see, lovingly putting together our villages and adorning them with lights and people is our therapy. And for me, gazing at the finished product and watching the eyes of my children and granchildren light up when they enter my Christmas Wonderland fills me with a sense of joy that is well worth the effort of putting it all together. Besides, isn't there still a "little kid" inside of all of us at Christmas?
