How family holiday traditions get their start

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David Trinko: How family holiday traditions get their start

It started like any great family holiday tradition should. No one wanted to do it but Mom, and everyone was going to go. Most of all, we were going to enjoy it, whether we liked it or not.

With that in mind, the family packed into the minivan, or "The Weekender" as I like to call it, for a tour of the various Christmas lights displays near our home.

It reminded me of trips we took as kids, as Mom and Dad packed the seven of us into the ugly green van. We'd drive around nicer neighborhoods in nearby places, pointing out the fabulous and not-so-fabulous displays people placed in their yards.

No one seemed particularly excited about those trips at first. By the end of the trip, everyone felt a little more connected as a family. Some of us even dared to consider it fun.

We ran into those same issues with our own clan. If it weren't for the draw of "Bee Movie" on DVD, I'm not sure anyone would've piled into the back of The Weekender. And I convinced myself it was a worthy journalistic experience, snapping pictures and writing down addresses for our Christmas lights map on LimaOhio.com.

There's something special about seeing the elaborate displays some people put out in their yards to signify their fondness for this time of year.

Everyone has a favorite type. My wife loves the grand but simple displays, which honor the belief that less is more without actually using less. Our 7-year-old likes over-the-top displays with plenty of motion. And our 1-year-old and newborn girls like anything that won't wake them up.

As for me, I like tacky. I like over-the-top, spent-10-hours-setting-it-up, running-a-$1,000-electricity-bill displays.

It's probably personal envy. I don't have the patience or the creativity to really put up an impressive display. That, and the influence of Mrs. Trinko, explains our simple garland with white lights on our porch roof.

The 7-year-old really fought having fun on this trip, though. We wiggled along country roads with only kilowatt-fueled stars to guide us. When we found a nifty spot, we looked back at her and asked what she thought. She'd look down from her movie and tell us each display was "OK."

But the longer we drove around, the more enthusiastic that "OK" sounded. She even looked excited when we found one country display that certainly must double as a landing strip during December. By the time we headed home, she pointed out cool displays before we noticed them.

As we pulled into our driveway, I heard her shrill voice pop up from the back of the van.

"I think I like this one the best," she said.

Looking at our home and its modest display, I couldn't help but smile. Truly, our display was the best she saw. After all, it was ours, and it was home.

Then I realized she was talking about our neighbor's multicolored spectacle.

And so starts another holiday tradition: Dad assuming we're having a sentimental moment then realizing he misunderstood.