As brand, spanking new residents of Berkeley Heights (which, did you hear, was rated the #6 best town in all of the U. S. of A?!?), we are determined to take advantage of all she has to offer.
Our first exposure occurred on December 1st, the night of their annual Christmas Tree lighting.
The weather was frightful. Like 17-degrees-my-fingers-are-sure-to-fall-off frightful. But those Berkeley Heighters did it right.
They carted Santa in on a lights a-blazing and sirens a-ringing Firetruck. Then we caroled. And Santa high-fived the children. Because there is no time for lap-sittings when noses are numb. We took advantage of the hot cocoa and cookies, then counted down from ten at which point a most impressively-sized evergreen lit the sky.
To celebrate, fireworks were fired. Like the 4th of July. We all let our jaws drop. Then quickly put them back in place, because no one enjoys a frozen tongue. And within 30 minutes, the whole ordeal was complete. Efficient those Berkeley Heighters are. These are my people.
And would you believe it: People said, "Merry Christmas!" Not a "Happy Holiday" to be heard. And, don't get me wrong, I have no problem with "Happy Holidays" but a "Merry Christmas," it's just that it's so much more,
merrier.
And should that not be enough, there was a nativity. With Mary and Joseph and no Jesus. Which made me question the riff raff of Berkeley Heights until I learned that Jesus is placed in the manger on Christmas day, because the advent is all about waiting for a Savior. And then I fell in love a little deeper with this sleepy little town.
We came home frozen to the bone. I whipped up a quick batch of our own hot cocoa, we sipped until we thawed, and then declared it a most perfect first day of December.
Good start Berkeley Heights. Good start.
1 comment:
Well for Pete's sake, it all sounds pretty darn wonderful to me!
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