Clark Griswold and the Perfect Christmas

Clark Griswold is everything I’m not, yet somehow exactly the person I feel I sometimes try to be. He’s a man with a dream—a dream of the perfect Christmas. And just like me, he doesn’t know when to stop. Every year, he goes all in—and every year, it goes horribly wrong.

It starts with that oversized Christmas tree. You know the one. The Griswold family sets out into the snowy forest, without so much as a saw, to find the one. Clark, with his characteristic optimism, spots it. It’s enormous. It’s impossible. And it’s perfect. One small problem? It doesn’t fit in the car. But that’s no obstacle. Not for Clark Griswold.

I remember the first time I saw this scene. I was maybe 20, just starting to build my own life. That absurd vision Clark has—this unattainable idea of perfection—wasn’t just comedy. It was a reflection of what it means to hope, to dream big, even when the world laughs at you.

The Lights That Never Shine

Ah, the Christmas lights. If there’s one scene that perfectly captures Clark’s pursuit of perfection, it’s when he tries to light up the house. Thousands of bulbs, hours of work—and nothing happens. Everyone stands there, and Clark’s face transforms from hope to sheer desperation. But then, in a miracle of timing, the house lights up like a beacon in the night. The neighbors are blinded, and for a fleeting moment, everything seems perfect.

For me, that scene is a metaphor for life. We work and struggle, and sometimes it feels like nothing works. But when it does—when the lights finally turn on—it’s all worth it. And even when it doesn’t, well, it makes a good story to tell later.