This pre-holiday time of year, as I drive around my neighborhood at night, it's dull and dark; just street lights and porch lights. Then comes Thanksgiving and, ZAP-- homes come alive with Christmas wattage.
I don't mind. Here in LA, the holiday lights are one of our few signals of seasonal change.
But whose season is it? Are all those twinkling reindeer pulling me along for an unwanted ride? As I ask these questions a different light goes on, and I begin to imagine what my home would look like if it were decorated for Chanukah.
Isn't the most important part of Chanukah publicizing the miracle? That's why we are supposed to put our menorahs in the window for everyone to see. So what then if I have the urge for my publicity to be a bit more public. Especially since Christmas falls this year on Chanukah, isn't it time to show the flag? Why can't Jews have holiday yard art too?
The standard Jewish community rap on decorating homes for Chanukah has always been that it is assimilative. We pooh-pooh the idea by saying: "That's what they do," or "it will send a confusing message to the kids." But I am not talking about putting up a Chanukah bush, or other "mixed blessing" decorations (which I have noticed have become more prevalent). And I'm not talking about stringing up the house with blue Christmas lights either. I have seen houses decorated that way, and frankly, they look depressing, like everyone inside needs a little Prozac in their latkes.
I am talking full on decorated Chanukah house. And why not? It is a Festival of Lights, celebrating an historic victory over assimilation that I would be proud to plug into to. Think of it a cultural extension cord.
Others seem to be plugging in as well. Several specialty online stores carry Chanukah yard decorations. Last year I even saw a giant dreidel in Bed, Bath and Beyond; so someone is taking a turn at this.
Already there's a famous Chanukah house in Baltimore, all welcoming and twinkly, and looking like a great miracle of creativity happened here.
Not to be outdone, there are also photos of a Chanukah house in Brooklyn that wishes passersby "Chanukah Sameach," "Happy Chanukah," and one in Queens with 8 Chanukah inflatables.
Still uncertain as to how to tap into this apparent new Chanukah tradition, I drove to the hardware store for light bulbs and ideas. There in the glow of Christmas chazerai: Icicle lights, and giant snow globes with Santas trapped inside, I begin to wonder, "What if?" What would my Chanukah house look like?
Could I put up a giant inflatable fiddler on my roof? I can't buy one of those. But they do have an 8 foot inflatable menorah that lights up, and a huge Chanukah bear holding a dreidel. Maybe order one each of those.
And lights? Strings of twinkling LEDS, saying "Chappy Chanukah," and, "Final Score: Maccabees 8--Greek Seleucids 0 (Would I need a wind turbine dreidel to power it all?).
I want the smells of Chanukah too. How can I get the odor of frying latkes to waft out to the curb? A fan in front of an electric fryer with potato pancakes cooking? (Sounds too Rube Goldberg. He was Jewish, by the way.)
Or what if I convert the giant snow globe, removing the Santa and replacing him with an inflatable Chassid? Some klezmer music playing through yard speakers would finish the scene.
If we are supposed to show the miracle, why can't it be more showy?
Edmon J. Rodman has written about making his own matzah for JTA, Jewish love music for the Jerusalem Post, yiddisheh legerdemain for the Los Angeles Jewish Journal, a Bernie Madoff Halloween mask for the Forward, and what really gets stuck in the La Brea Tar Pits for the Los Angeles Times. He has edited several Jewish population studies, and is one of the founders of the Movable Minyan, an over twenty-year-old chavura-size, independent congregation. He once designed a pop-up seder plate.In 2011 Rodman received a First Place Simon Rockower Award for "Excellence in Feature Writing" from the American Jewish Press Association."
