Columnist Benjamin Grove: Traditional tree lighting evokes holiday nostalgia

Benjamin Grove

Friday, Dec. 7, 2001 | 4:19 a.m.

Even the lighting of the National Christmas Tree was a little different this year.

The 78-year-old tradition has never barred the public, but this year the Secret Service almost banned the event except to select ticket-holders. The dark suits relented, however, and allowed the public in after locals protested.

Cops rerouted non-ticket holders around concrete barricades and chain-link fencing erected around the perimeter of the Ellipse -- the grassy expanse where they display the tree in front of the White House.

I walked with throngs of others and finally staked out a spot across the Ellipse from the tree where the crowd was relegated to a long, narrow strip of grass between the sidewalk and street. We stood behind snow fencing and yellow police tape, practically in traffic.

It wasn't a great vantage point. But I would be able to see the 40-foot Colorado blue spruce when Laura Bush lit it up.

The fortunate few who had scrounged tickets to the event had better viewing inside the fencing -- no backpacks were allowed inside because of security.

I could barely hear tinny sounding live Christmas carols being piped through loudspeakers in the distance. Country singer Travis Tritt, among others, was there, apparently. But I couldn't see the stage or performers near the tree, just flood lights and satellite television trucks and police. All kinds of police -- more than last year, reports said -- city police, U.S. Park Service police, police with dogs, lots of police on horses.

I could see the White House, too, of course. This year the presidential mansion and its elaborate holiday decorations are closed to tours.

It didn't feel much like Christmas. Buses were whizzing by. It smelled like horses. And the weather was too warm for the District in December -- nearly 70 degrees. Some of the people who had bellied up to the snow fence with me were wearing shorts. The after-work crowd had taken off suit jackets.

I was firmly out of the holiday spirit until I picked up a few bars of "I'll Be Home for Christmas," playing on the distant loud speakers.

An elderly woman standing near me began to hum along. She looked wistful. I watched her for a few seconds.

Unfortunately a sweaty jogger interrupted the moment. He stopped next to me and asked, "When are they going to light this candle?" I shrugged. "Kinda lame," he said. He took off.

President Bush finally made a few remarks. I couldn't really hear that, either, but I got the text later. "This season finds our country with losses to mourn and great tasks to complete," Bush said. "And even in the midst of war, we pray for peace on Earth and goodwill to men."

Finally the first lady flipped the switch, aided by two children of Pentagon crash victims. The tree lit up, decorated in red, white and blue. Cheers erupted from the crowd near the tree, but only a few people around me applauded. Someone nearby asked, "That's it?" And we all started to walk home.

I had been warned that the tree lighting is not a dazzling spectacle -- at least not from a distance. Still, people flock to it every year, and about 5,000 came this year despite warm weather and the war -- seeking a familiar tradition, a sign of normalcy.

I found my trinket of holiday nostalgia: strolling away with "I'll Be Home for Christmas" playing in my head.