Icycle Light Plea (A Form Letter)

The following is a draft of a proposal on an idea of a concept.  Readers are urged to clip, copy, sign and send it along to their local town representatives.  Remember, the more of these they receive, the more likely something will be done about this most heinous problem.

Dear Representatives:

My name is (your name here), and I live at (your address here).  I would like to bring to your attention a serious problem that is not only plaguing our little corner of the universe, but most other places as well.  In fact, the problem is so out of hand that we are in danger of it’s becoming an epidemic.  You must take serious action now before it is too late and there will be no turning back.

Let me start by saying that I am not a killjoy in any way.  I like having fun as much as the next person and in a festive spirit, I’ve been known to make rather merry.  Let me also start out by making it clear that I believe in the rights of all private property owners and that there ought to be limits to the powers of local government.

That being said, however, I sincerely demand that you, (insert local form of government here:  township committee, town council), draft, pass and strictly enforce an ordinance that forces homeowners and renters to take down their icicle lights within a reasonable time after the winter holidays.

There was a time when people ridiculed those who left their holiday lights up past the Super Bowl.  That behavior was once reserved for those who also thought that a broken down car made an excellent lawn ornament.  Alas, no more. 

Today, unfortunately, it seems that leaving the lights up year round is in vogue.  I challenge you to drive through a neighborhood without passing a home sporting the glistening tentacles dangling from rooftops.  Even those developments with “executive homes” – you know, those slash-and-build neighborhoods that was a orchard just last week – have a few families who must think that icicle lights are permanent lighting fixtures just because they come with nifty plastic clips.

Perhaps these perpetrators believe that no one can really see the lights dripping from their rain gutters.  Perhaps they think that they are attractive and add to the aesthetics of the block.  Perhaps they feel that if everyone left their holiday lights up, it will become the norm.  Whatever these people may believe, I must strongly state that they are wrong, wrong, wrong.

Not only are they a safety hazard because they are not designed permanent outdoor use, but these lights are just plain ugly.  They make your house look like an Appalachian smile. By keeping them up, residents are showing a lack of respect for themselves or their neighbors but also for (insert name of town, borough, city, berg or township) itself.

It is time for our (insert town type here:  town, borough, city, berg or township) to stand up and take swift and decisive action.  It is time for all (insert name of town, borough, city, berg or township) residents to tell their fellow community members that these lights are an eyesore, that at night, during the holidays, they are a delightful adornment, but now, during daylight saving hours, they look not unlike an albino millipede racing across a roof.

Even though there are most likely ordinances already in the books dealing with temporary and permanent outdoor electrical wiring and lighting that can and ought to be used to control this ever-growing problem, a specific ordinance may help many people to realize that the appearance of their homes are as much of a reflection on me as it is on them.

Thank your for your quick attention to this problem.

Sincerely,

(Insert name here)

Refinishing Your Inner End Table

When Michelangelo brushed his last stroke on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel in Vatican City, I imagine he must have stood back to take in his work as a whole:  one part admiration, three parts relief at the work’s being complete.  As I hammered the last finishing nail in the window trim of my bathroom, I stood back to take in the work as a whole:  one part relief at the work’s being complete, three parts amazement that the nail went in straight.

After several jump starts, mishaps and do-overs, it is finished.  The total bathroom renovation that began with a burned out light bulb in 1998 is finally done.  From gutted room to new towels, my leviathan of a lavatory has been conquered. 

When I had put the last of the tools back down in the basement, I stood at the bathroom door, staring, noticing a couple minor imperfections that few others would perceive.  I like to believe those little imperfections, like the bumps and wrinkles of life, are what make a place, a life, our own.  Perfection, after all, is in the eye of the cynic.

Still standing in the doorway, I tried to picture what the room had looked like before I started.  I wondered what it had looked like before that and then even before that.  Our house is around a hundred years old, so I figure it must have gone through many renovations.  All those minor imperfections painted, papered and paneled over to lay a claim, to mark a territory, to discover a land anew over and over again. 

And then a thought occurred to me:  Aren’t we all constantly renovating our inner rooms?

It’s like Deepak Chopra meets Bob Villa.  A person needs to tear down a facade put up years ago, perhaps in another lifetime, before rebuilding.  A healthy individual needs to know the dimensions of his own door jam in order to put up new trim.  The sub floor must be flat, smooth and clean before laying the new, improved vinyl flooring.  Seams between sheets of dry wall must be tapped and spackled well so the wall can be one flowing wall in itself and of itself.  Paint looks best over a coat of fine primer, that is, our outside is only as beautiful as what lies beneath because if you can’t get at what’s really underneath, at least keep it from bleeding though.

Furniture refinishing is much the same thing.  When I got my first apartment, I raided my parents’ attic.  Along with an old set of plates I don’t ever remember using; forks, knives, and spoons; a few pots and magazine rack, I was able to confiscate two matching end tables.  They had been the end tables of my youth, permanent fixtures in our living room until my brothers and I were out of the jump-on-the-furniture-with-your-dirty-shoes phase when my parents bought new furniture that wasn’t akin to burlap.

When I set up my living room that also played the role of dining room, office, guest room, and hamper, the end tables gave me a familiar, homey comfort feeling.  Seconds later I made the decision to refinish them.  It wasn’t that they were in bad shape; it wasn’t that I didn’t particularly like the style.  It was that I was not living at home anymore, I was on my own and I needed to strip off the fine, natural wood finish of my parents and paint them with the good black semi-gloss of my independence.

It’s not just the big jobs that help us renovate our inner rooms.  The smallest jobs around the house are just as important.  Touching up paint on a baseboard, fixing a leaking faucet, even simply Spring cleaning can be as insightful and meaningful toward a more fulfilling sense of self as a Wayne Dyer marathon during PBS fundraising.

For those who believe that it’s best to leave such major improvement projects to the professionals, I’d reply that people must be their own contractors, sub-contracting only surrenders one’s power to another – although having a good plumber really helps.

With the desire, patience, and the proper tools, any inner room can be improved upon.  Just don’t forget to wear your safety glasses.