by Andrea Plamondon

I didn’t grow up in Bedford—but every Christmas, it felt like I did.

Each year, my family would make the trip to visit my grandparents, and nestled in the heart of those holiday visits was one tradition that lit up my childhood: the Christmas lights at the Elks National Home. It was Bedford’s own winter wonderland, and to me, it felt like stepping into a living snow globe.

We’d roll down the car windows, letting the cool breeze and Christmas music swirl around us.

Headlights off. Hearts on.

The line of cars stretched long, each one inching forward with anticipation. And then—magic.

The music floated in like a gentle snowflake—soft, familiar, and full of cheer. And oh, the sights! A giant wooden Santa grinning ear to ear, snowmen waving like old friends, elves zipping down slides with wild abandon. My favorite? A little girl playing an organ while three angels in the clouds serenaded us with a cello, violin, and harp. It was like driving through a storybook, one slow roll at a time.

Fast forward fifty-something years. My grandparents are gone, but my parents now live in Bedford, and I still return. The lights have dimmed. The music has hushed. The wooden characters—once so lively—now slumped and faded, weather-worn and weary. The line of cars? A trickle. Neighbors sigh, remembering the glory days.

But this weekend, something magical stirred.

I joined a crew of volunteers determined to bring the sparkle back. We dug through piles of old displays—some buried in dirt, others missing limbs (and heads!). I found Mrs. Claus’ noggin peeking out from a heap. It felt like a treasure hunt in Santa’s attic.

We spent the day dusting off memories, scrubbing away time, and giggling like children humming Christmas carols. I was giddy—like I’d snuck into Santa’s workshop. The joy was real. The magic was back.
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This year, the lights will shine again. Brighter. Bolder. And with every bulb, a story—mine, yours, ours—will glow in the winter night.

I’ve been making joyful trips to Bedford for nearly 60 years—my family roots run deep here. Though I now live in St. Charles, IL, I still drive my little red truck to Bedford every couple of months. As a board member of Bedford Get Together, I’ve loved hearing and collecting your Bedford Stories. Sharing my own brings us full circle—back to the magic of Christmas lights, community spirit, and the sparkle that lit up my childhood.