I was drawn to the glow like a Frat boy to a Budweiser neon. On
Bartlett Court in San Martin, where eerie lights rise to the sky
like a car dealership during a year end clearance sale, there is
complete compliance by neighbors with the wishes of Denise and
Bruce Matulich (mostly Denise) to light up the dark winter nights
during the holidays.
I was drawn to the glow like a Frat boy to a Budweiser neon. On Bartlett Court in San Martin, where eerie lights rise to the sky like a car dealership during a year end clearance sale, there is complete compliance by neighbors with the wishes of Denise and Bruce Matulich (mostly Denise) to light up the dark winter nights during the holidays.
A self-described holiday decorating fanatic, Denise has inspired her neighbors to join in the festive mood but none have quite topped the 85,000-plus lights the Matulich’s have displayed each year for the past five years.
Matulich’s football field-sized yard offers Denise a large palette on which she creates lighted tableaus.
Denise has the requisite deer but adds a “pool” of blue lights from which the deer drinks, and subtle comedy when Santa leaves two reindeer on the ground upon takeoff.
The features of the display expand with every Christmas, and this year include 55 to 60 lighted figures, 24 clocks, 10 different circuits, hand-painted Dalmatians (Cruella is in the artist’s studio, due out next year), a three-week setup, and a utility bill in the neighborhood of $1,500, all of it worth the effort, according to Denise.
Seeing a little boy with his grandmother passing by in one of the many cars that venture down Bartlett Court, his eyes widening with incredulous wonder at the spectacle and a smile spreading on his face, I understand Denise’s mission to spread a little cheer (and possibly provide a landing pad for a Roswell native).
Bruce’s position as executive director for the Electric and Gas Association made me raise my eyebrow to which Bruce replied, “It’s only once a year.”
Amongst the holiday cards and well wishes from Carl Schindler, local insurance agent (now can I get a discount on my coverage?), the invitation read “Old Fashioned Christmas tree lighting … real candles … real sparklers.” I had scored the invitation to the annual party that keeps my Dad up past his 8 o’clock bedtime.
For years now, Don and Dolores Clawson have raved about Gisella and Bob Rich’s Christmas party and their musical friends who play into the night.
The directions were easy. “Head west on Dunne Avenue and keep going up El Toro Mountain until you can’t go any farther.” Being one of the few locals who have never climbed El Toro, I delighted in the fact I could drive up the beast of a mountain to the awesome views of our beloved South County.
Discussing local folklore with Jim and Debbie Persons (owners of Frank’s Plumbing), I dispelled the myth that El Toro was once an active volcano.
According to resident geologist Peter Anderson, El Toro is mostly limestone, not magma ready to spew. The only thing spewing at the party on top of limestone were the sparklers ignited on the Christmas tree.
Carrying on the Swiss tradition of ignoring the fire marshal, Gisella invites all the youngsters in the crowd to light the candles on the tree, then set the imported, Swiss sparklers attached to the tree alight. Wow! Breathtaking!
Leave it to the makers of the best chocolate in the world to know how to add some sparkle to a gathering.
To calm the nerves of the older folks not used to “fire atop the tree” the band struck up their first notes of the evening with 90-year-old H.L. MacMillan playing “5-foot-2 Eyes of Blue” on the double-belled euphonium.
Howard Simpson joined in on the coronet and Carol Clement on the Liberace-style piano (white lacquer with lots of Christmas lights). “Baby Face” followed (they must have read last week’s column reminiscing about Shirley Temple) with Simpson pausing on his coronet, switching to vocals and belting out the words to the tune and swaying to the swing. What talent!
Stephanie Williams and Bill Lemos, director of maintenance at CordeValle, mixed and mingled with the crowd of retired Pan Am employees, Jackson Elementary parents, and patients of physical therapist Rob Conlan of Fritter, Schultz and Conlan.
As the evening wound down (although I think MacMillan could outlast us all), one last look at the valley from atop the mythical volcano and we headed home, led by the cheerful holiday lights of the season.
