11,000 Points of Yule Light

Sometimes it’s hard to swing into the Christmas spirit in Southern California. It seems ridiculous for people who boast of moving here to escape cold weather to sing homages to walking in a winter wonderland or dashing through the snow in a one-horse open sleigh.

Picking out a tree on a Chatsworth Little League field isn’t half as romantic as an excursion to an alpine forest to chop one down; plum pudding, candy canes, eggnog and other Christmas goodies lose appeal when the price is getting up at dawn for an extra aerobics class.

Even a sentimental Christmas movie on TV such as “It’s a Wonderful Life” can’t fight the holiday blues. Either the film is interrupted by so many commercials it’s impossible to sit through, or it’s colorized.

Yet there is at least one advantage to celebrating Christmas here. Bill Damato can hang thousands and thousands of Christmas lights all over his house without getting frostbite.

Damato, 78, is a come-to-life Christmas angel who believes the true spirit of the holiday is making other people happy. And for the last 25 years he has tried to do that by turning his house in the 25300 block of Via Ramon Street into a blinking fantasy of multicolored lights.

On the roof, on the fence, on the walls, on the garage door, on the front door, on the plants, on the chimney, there are lights everywhere, more than 11,000 by his count. Not a foot of the house goes undecorated. On the front lawn is a Nativity scene of waist-high plastic figures, lighted from within.

Damato has so many lights that it can cost up to $500 a Christmas to replace the burned-out bulbs. He doesn’t know what his electric bill is. He said his wife pays without letting him see it.

Like the neon casino signs of Las Vegas that spring from nowhere, Damato’s flashing house is a beacon in the dark of his quiet Valencia subdivision.

“So many children don’t know the real meaning of Christmas. This is what Christmas is all about,” the white-haired, wrinkled grandfather said as he gazed at his handiwork on a recent Saturday evening. Members of the Master’s College chorale sang Christmas carols in front of Damato’s house, and the event turned into a block party.

Children on bicycles and scooters, mothers toting blanket-wrapped babies, people walking dogs--nearly 50 people--braved the chilly night to listen to the serenade and admire the house, creating Christmas memories for the future.

Among the dozen children sitting on the cold cement driveway, 10-year-old Danielle Riley alternately listened to the singers and jumped up to ask her parents when she would have a chance to sing.

Upon hearing “The Twelve Days of Christmas,” Brennen Gates, 6, began to tug on her mother’s hand. “Mommy, I want five golden rings.”

Bundled up in a brown corduroy coat, Damato, a shy, deeply religious man, stood in the back of the crowd, eager for his guests to enjoy themselves.

“I don’t even have a tree inside my house. I think the outside is what is important and this is the way I share,” he said. “This way I can serve the Lord.”

Damato, a semi-retired hairdresser, starts hanging his lights when most people are celebrating Halloween. He said he works on the house for a few hours every night and turns on the lights for the first time the week after Thanksgiving. He may add lights, though, as late as Christmas Eve.

In decorating, he said, “I try to be as artistic as possible.” Hence the round swirling patterns on corners of the house, and the flashing geometric patterns on the garage door.

Sometimes, Damato said, people ring his doorbell at 2 a.m., after he has turned the lights off, asking him to turn them back on. He usually obliges.

Traffic was heavy on the street. Volkswagen vans, Mercedes-Benz sedans and pickup trucks rounded the corner and screeched to a halt. After staring at the spectacle for awhile, drivers proceeded on. Within a few minutes, most returned for another look.

Dale and Sharon Hansen drive by Damato’s house from their home in Saugus every year to see the lights. When they heard the carolers, they said, they parked their car, rolled the windows down, turned up the heat and stayed to enjoy the concert.

Two cars nearly collided head-on as both drivers craned their necks out the windows.

And the young carolers sang on, belting out traditional Christmas songs in four-part harmony. As they concluded, a member of the group, Michael Waldrip, pulled a bird puppet out of his suitcase, and Danielle Riley finally got her chance to sing. Waldrip and “Lovey the Dovey” led the children in a round of “Silver Bells,” “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” and “Frosty the Snowman.” The songs were off-key and the kids didn’t know all the words, but to Damato they sounded just as good as the choir.

“It makes you feel 10 feet tall when you see the response to this,” he said.

Theresa DeHaas of Quebec, who was visiting her grandchildren, was stunned. “It’s a wonderful thing that you do here, sir,” she told Damato. “You make everyone feel good. It really is the spirit of Christmas. Thank you.”

Dean Vikan, a recent transplant from Foston, Minn., recorded the scene with his VCR, while his wife, Phyllis, held the leash attached to their beagle, Rocky. During the holidays, the Vikans always pass by Damato’s house when walking Rocky, and on this night they were making a videotape to send to his family in Minnesota.

“We want them to see that we do celebrate Christmas in California,” Dean Vikan said. “In the Midwest, it’s too cold to put lights up. It’s hard to screw in light bulbs when your hands are freezing.”