The late lamented Michael Kelly once tackled the most ticklish Christmas controversy of all:
white lights versus colored lights.
White lights make the statement that one is a refined sort who appreciates that less is more and who celebrates Christmas (and life in general) in such a fashion that one would not be absolutely mortified if Martha Stewart dropped by unexpectedly for tea. Colored lights make the statement that one is the sort of person who believes that Christmas is not Christmas without an electric sled and reindeer on the lawn, an electric Santa on the roof, an electric Frosty by the front gate and an electric Very Special Person in a manger on the porch.
I used to be a white lights sort of person, but now that lights are inexpensive and come pre-shaped to the countours of one's roof and garden, there's no longer an "ooh, ah" quality about amazing light displays. Every other house in the neighborhood is a lovely masterpiece...and a bit dull, frankly. I find my taste for colored lights is growing. Or maybe it's that we live with three boys. As Kelly notes:
Boys are naturally colored-lighters.
