On Christmas Lights by Paul Baribeau

The first winter break after I started college, I was excited to visit home for the holidays. The road was icy but I still drove irresponsibly fast in my already once totaled hand me down. I stopped at exit 91 to grab food then screamed along to my favorite band. My mom was surprised I had made it there already. I lied about what time I left. 

I was happy to be home. Snow on the lawn. Christmas lights on the house. Sitting outside with my family. Seeing my childhood dog who still had a good 5 years in him. It was good being back home. I noticed my mom got a new bed. The new one had an adjustable frame she was excited to show me. The living room was redecorated. It wasn’t completely different. Enough for me to notice but not enough for my family to mention. My room was unchanged, of course. Maybe a bit dustier than when I packed. 

It was strange seeing how my hometown had changed. All the small ways, small enough that I was the only one that noticed. A store with a different sign. A road with newly painted lines.

At the end of that break, I hugged my mom, she told me she was proud of me, and I drove back. Less eager than I was on the way up but still a hint of excitement. My dorm room wasn’t any different than when I left, it only felt like it was.

The next year I was in a different dorm room, and the year after that a new different dorm room. As my room changed so did my home and so did my hometown.

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I was standing in line for food in my school's Student Union the first time I listened to Paul Baribeau. I found his self-titled record scrolling through related artists for Jeffery Lewis the night before. It was around twenty minutes which is about right for a trip to the Union and back.

The second Paul Baribeau album I picked up was Grand Ledge. After listening to his self-titled album I decided to wait at least a year before listening to a second one. When you find something good, you enjoy it. When you find something great, you savor it.

The first track of Grand Ledge is Christmas Lights. It’s on my short list of songs I sing when I don’t realize I’m singing, alongside Heavy Heart by Jeffery Lewis and Gentle by Local News Legend. The first verse, sung in Baribeau’s vulnerably honest timbre backed by his own guitar, is:

Fresh snow on the suburbs

Staying at my parents'

It hasn't been a good year

But things are alright here

Sleeping in the spare room

That used to be my bedroom

Even though I'm home now

I feel completely homeless

When I was home, I didn’t know what all was going on. Everyone and everything continued without me. My dorm room certainly didn’t feel like home either. I was home but I didn’t feel like I had a home. It would be a while before I had anything that felt like a home. I can imagine the uncanny feeling of Baribeau’s childhood bedroom converted into a guest room where he’s the guest.

The chorus feels like a sharp turn initially. The first verse wants to find peace in its past as you grow up and away from it but the chorus looks at the present blankly, hoping it will look back.

I'm lookin’ at the moon, ooh-ooh ooh-ooh

Shining on the snow, oh-oh oh-oh

And everything was blue, ooh-ooh ooh-ooh

Except the Christmas lights

The chorus is a warm bath with the power out. It’s quiet, it’s a little sad, but you're okay. It feels like being in the present with no context of the past pushing you forward. You are where you need to be. 

The second verse of the song goes: 

Walking around the basement

Where my band used to practice

Sometimes I don't wanna make new friends

Sometimes I just miss my old friends

But I'm seeing someone new now

She calms my heart down

But I'm too scared to tell her

How crazy I can get sometimes

There’s a hollow feeling of walking around your joyful memories. A place that at one point had all of your friends in it. It was the home of everything that gave you meaning. But now it’s just some place. The lack of their presence makes itself known.

I have a small connection to the basement Baribau mentioned. It’s loose but I hear it every time. In his song “I Miss That Band” on his self titled record, Baribau sings:

Maybe if I close my eyes I'll be back in a Lansing basement

Nodding my head while you rock.

I assume this is the same basement in both songs. After I graduated college, I got a job at a firm and worked on a project based out of Lansing, Michigan. For work I would have to fly there once a month to work out of the office. Once a month, I would spend my week living in Lansing. It never came close to feeling like a home but it had become a part time home nonetheless. Being from the South, I didn’t know much about Michigan. Everytime I would visit I would look out for college kids with guitars and softly sing to myself “back in lansing basement, nodding my head while you rock.” Being in Michigan so much made me feel more connected to the music. I now know people who live in the Grand Ledge mentioned on the title of my CD.

The Lansing I see and the Lansing Baribeau sees might be pretty similar. We both see an absence and an impertinent city. I got to know some people at a local game store when I visited. I had a punch card for a local sushi place and the owners started recognizing me. Now, it’s just a city that was once a part of my life. 

The last verse of the song has the part I probably quote the most.

I never feel better after I cry

I spent six month of my life just wanting to die

I am learning how to be alone without being lonely

Learning how to be lonely without losing my mind.

I, personally, believe everyone dies alone. No matter how many people you have around you, the present tense “you”, the one reading this essay now, is going to stop. You can have others with you but you are the only one that will be having that experience of losing your ability to experience. You will always have to deal with being alone in some capacity. But - you don’t always have to be lonely. And sometimes, you will be lonely and that is still okay. Like Baribeau, we can learn.

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The first winter break after I finished college, I was excited to visit home for the holidays. The highway was untouched by any winter weather. I probably stopped to grab food but all those memories on the road have mixed together now. The destination was different this time. 

I’ve made that drive from college to home for the last time. Not only am I living in a new place, so is my family. Now the home I’m going back to for Christmas isn’t in my hometown.

The place I’m living now is beautiful. I’m lucky to have it. I’m even starting to call it home. But I know soon I’ll be moving and I’ll have to find out what home is all over again. I’ve made some new friends even if I just miss my old friends. I’ve learned not to try and replace old friends and to just enjoy the new ones for the relationship you create. Nothing lasts forever, maybe there is just no permanent place to call home. Sometimes I feel alone, sometimes I get lonely, but things are alright here.