“Dad, you taught me everything I know about exterior illumination.”

— Clark Griswold

Thomas Edison invented the light bulb. But electric Christmas tree lights? While Edison created the first outdoor electric light display, it was his assistant Edward Johnson who created the first string of lights. In 1882, he hand-wired 80 red, white and blue lights around a rotating tree in his home. Apparently, he was a bit of a P.T. Barnum, both salesman and showman. The tree was placed on a rotating stand (powered by a generator) in the front window. He invited the press and drew crowds. The inventor also began a tradition — increasing the number of lights in the display each year. And so, it began …

The illumination extravaganza started rather slowly despite Johnson’s efforts. Sheer expense was the initial deterrent — the first small string of 16 bulbs cost the equivalent of $350 in current value. By 1914, the price had dropped considerably, and the decorative lights began to multiply. It’s estimated that 80 million American homes are adorned in luminescence each year. Of course, the displays range from simple to elaborate.

Since 2014, Timothy and Grace Gay of Union Vale have held the world record for the most Christmas lights on a residential property. Following Edward Johnson’s early example, they have added more lights each year. This year’s display shines with 745,994 lights, equivalent to roughly 40 miles’ worth.

Lights beget lights; neighborhoods that have one illuminated house inspire more. In our little neck of the woods, the houses with small children all have multi-colored arrays, while those of us who are older opt for simple white.

Then again, is white so simple?

Years ago, we opted for icicle lights. They came with clear plastic guides to keep the hanging lights in straight, authentic stalactites. Despite our best efforts, they hung like awkward stick figures, so the guides were abandoned. But the lights were not. We replaced a string occasionally, but the look of warm white lights remained consistent.

This year, as we tested each strand, it became apparent that we were in trouble. Random sections wouldn’t light. Sections remained unlit. Half-heartedly, we attempted to check bulbs … no luck.

Bill, ever the optimist (cheapskate?), said, “We can make this work. Just drape the unlit parts around the corner.”

“It’s the wrong end. Maybe we could overlap them …” I ventured.

We tried. It looked terrible.

“Bill, I think we will need to replace a bunch.”

“Well, maybe after Christmas when they go on sale,” he reluctantly conceded.

After intense negotiation, we ended up at the store buying one small strand. We scrutinized boxes, trying to find ones that would match our old lights. All the new lights were LEDs. Finally, we found ones that were “warm white” and guaranteed to match incandescent lights.

At home, we added them in. While they were the right white, the new ones twinkled. Now, on one side of the stairs, we had 30 feet of solid warm white and 10 feet of motion-filled twinkling light. In the dark, I studied them. They looked terrible. Not only was the illumination different, but there was a foot-long gap where they connected.

The next day, I sneaked back to the store. I found a larger but identical-looking box, “guaranteed to match incandescent lights.” At home, I replaced everything leading into the twinklers. With great anticipation, I plugged everything in and nearly cried.

Not only did the lights not sparkle, but they were blue white, not warm white. I had missed the fine print on the box. The other side of the stairs still held the original strands. I unplugged all the lights, hoping that I could come up with a solution before Bill noticed. Of course, he lit them up as soon as he came home. There was no hiding the disaster.

Twinklers, blue ice lights, warm white lights and a persistent gap where some wouldn’t light. It wasn’t just a Christmas light mismatch; it was a Christmas light mishap. As we spoke with neighbors in the driveway, they politely didn’t mention the sight. They didn’t need to; the horror was apparent on their faces.

The next day, another trip to the store. More lights were purchased. After three trips, we are now a non-sparkly, blue white icicle house. And we are the holders of sales receipts that mimic the costs of those early lights.

Honestly? After all that drama, they aren’t that impressive. But if you drive by, you’ll see a simple display–proof that even the humblest glow can hold a story far more complicated than it looks.