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The house that roared On the eve of Christmas Eve, Erik and I layer our kids in double pajamas, slippers with socks, winter bathrobes and warm blankets. Then we tuck the children into the preheated car and slip the Frank Sinatra holiday tape in the cassette player. Erik quietly backs out of the snow-crusted driveway as I serve warm cocoa from the thermos and fancy Christmas cookies we've made for the neighbors. Then, at the top of the road, Erik bears west on Route 113 and heads straight for Building 19 in Haverhill. Now we have no intention of shopping. We pull into the multi-acre parking lot, our backs to the store, roll down the windows, and turn off the car. And there it is: The ultimate in holiday electric bulb art. Thousands of flashing lights - every color, shape and size imaginable - electrify a seemingly modest ranch house. Dozens of holiday yard ornaments blink and dance about the yard. But the truly astounding sensation is the seasonal music blaring - no, blasting - across the city streets, perhaps reaching as far as New Hampshire. The children shriek with delight. Erik points enthusiastically. I gape in amazement at the work endured, the money wasted, the neighbors harassed, the choice in decor. It's a night to savor. ELIZABETH ATKINSON West Newbury

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