LIGHTS HAMMER HOME THE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT

We have a Christmas tradition at our house, one I've never much enjoyed.

Every year, I string colored lights on the outside of my house, striving in the nippy air for some burst of creativity while usually settling for the course marked by old nail holes.

And once each Christmas season, clouded by the tedium of the chore, the constant climbing on the step ladder and the desire to be in a warm place, I drop a hammer on my head.

This is not something I recount with any measure of pride, and my wife and children are probably aghast I would reveal such a dirty family secret, though I've noticed too that Clark Griswold's family is portrayed as understanding.

But, there it is. Without fail, I get in a hurry, leave the hammer on the ladder's top step, step down to move the ladder to another spot and ... bam! The hammer does a one-hop number off my cranium and lands at my feet. It never misses.

My first reaction is disbelief that I've allowed this to happen another year. Then, I loudly declare an oath that I'm not proud of and is well outside the spirit of the holidays. Next, I check to see if any of my children are in earshot. Finally, I look to see if my neighbors have taken this in, though I suspect they would be bent double in laughter if seeing it for the first time or, for the repeaters, stunned I haven't wised up to the gravity thing.

For all the pain and embarrassment this causes, these episodes take on sort of a yuletide lore, building steadily an endearing (if personally agonizing) family history that can be shared around the hearth for generations to come.

The main thing is to have a tradition.

The Osbornes of Little Rock, Ark., have a tradition, too.

Jennings and Mitzi Osborne, along with a daughter named Breezy, are a bit taken with illuminated Christmas displays. At their residence, they crank up 3 million lights to honor the season.

Know that long string of 100 lights you get tangled while decorating a tree? This display would have 30,000 of them.

Last year's display at the Osborne dwelling boasted an inconsequential 1.6 million lights. Feeling limited perhaps on usable space in which a light might be seated, the family bought the houses on both sides and stretched the display to 600 feet in length.

It is, according to most accounts, an eye-popper.

As an adjective, "eye-popping" enchants some people more than others. Six neighbors took the Osbornes to court, maintaining the display caused traffic jams, generated litter and attracted rubberneckers by the score.

Excess breeds excess, in deed and expression. One overwrought neighbor said, "I've been to county fairs that didn't have as many lights. ... I hope no one gets killed up here."

In defending their right to be ostentatious, the Osbornes went straight to the basics: the First Amendment. The family and their legal representation argued in court that a prohibition on their light display unconstitutionally infringed on their rights to free speech and religious expression.

Perhaps Underwriters Laboratory and Arkansas Power and Light filed friend of the court briefs.

This is the season of giving, but neighbors don't normally think of giving each other subpoenas. Freshly baked goods will suffice, thanks. But what's a lawsuit among friends? Why not share a cup of egg nog to wash down the injunction?

A lot of people do a lot of things using the First Amendment as a shield. Rap stars urge violence against police. Protesters burn flags. Tabloids invade privacy. Klansmen march hooded down public streets. That is what goes with living in a free society.

Our founding fathers (save perhaps Benjamin Franklin, who expressed an interest in electricity) probably did not count on their fundamental document protecting the rights of the flamboyant.

Courts believe there is a public danger in yelling "fire" in a crowded theater. Do they likewise believe it is risky to visually yell "Christmas" in a quiet neighborhood?

The Arkansas judge split the baby, deciding the Osbornes could light up Little Rock, but only for a limited number of days and with proper security and with adequate litter control. Individual liberty prevails; all others buy shades.

Cape Girardeau, probably like no other year, has outdone itself with Christmas lights. Some streets resemble runways. It is a terrific display of color and imagination. Still, three million lights on a single block might tax our good nature.

As for the Newton household, we went with a softer concept this year, involving fewer lights and no ladders. At the risk of jeopardizing tradition, my family might have believed I would eventually grow punch drunk from all these annual blows to the head.

The spirit of giving endures. Thankfully, it no longer involves giving first aid.

Ken Newton is editor of the Southeast Missourian.