Ed Augustine can tell you how important Christmas is to his family. Better yet, just take a look at his house.

Each year for the past two decades, cars have crowded into his Pleasant Hills neighborhood, which is tucked between U-Haul Moving & Storage on Rt. 51 and the Aldi supermarket near Century III Plaza.

No more specific directions are necessary: Between his 50,000-plus lights and the bright displays of some neighbors, you need only look for a gleam in the night sky to find your way.

“When Century III mall was here, you couldn’t get up and down the hill. At one point, I counted 30-some cars,” Augustine said. “The traffic has slowed a bit, but a lot of times, people will say, ‘I didn’t even know you were here. I was on [Rt.] 51, and saw it all lit up.’”

Visitors often assume the neighbors compete for the best or brightest display, but that isn’t the case. They cooperate, which is easy when your next-door neighbor — and stiffest “competition” — is your close friend of over 50 years.

Two’s company

Augustine, now 75, grew up in the row houses of Pittsburgh’s St. Clair Village. There were no yards. No architectural features to wrap lights around. No way to publicly signal how deeply into Christmas his family really was.

They’d drive down Carrick’s Maytide Avenue, on their way to his aunt’s house in Brookline, each Christmas Eve night. A home crusted in Christmas lights always caught his eye. He wanted one just like that one day.

That time came in 1970, when he and his then-wife purchased the Pleasant Hills home he still lives in.

His daughter, Natalie Augustine, of Pleasant Hills, described his early decorating as a “normal amount,” but then rethought it: “My perspective of ‘normal’ may be different.”

Lights lined the smaller bushes, the railings, some windows and the roof. To his recollection, his was the first highly decorated house in the neighborhood. But he held that honor for just a few years. Then his telephone company co-worker and friend, Tom Bonura, his wife, Lois, and their two sons moved in next door.

Bonura decorated the outside of his house for their first Christmas there in 1974. But when they added a second story in 1980, everything changed.

“My son said, ‘Well, we have this big side of our house’ — the side that faces Eddie — ‘We should put something big there,’” he recalled.

With his son, who has an “eye” for such things, Bonura designed a large Christmas tree made of long strands of green lights with a star on top.

A porch remodel made that a shimmering focal point some years later, and they added lawn decorations.

Then, about 25 years ago, Augustine took a trip that permanently elevated both displays.

Santa-approved skill

When Natalie had her first child 28 years ago, baby Cassy kicked her grandfather’s decorating into high gear.

He took a trip to Gatlinburg, Tenn., an area known for extravagant Christmas decorations, and purchased large metal frames for his yard and for Bonura’s.

They cost a few hundred dollars unlit, but for two telephone line installers, adding their own lights was no problem.

It also was in Augustine’s wheelhouse to create a spinning carousel, made from an old picnic table, and a Santa that flies around his roof. Both are fashioned from indoor Christmas tree turntables that he reimagined for outdoor use.

He also blankets the shrubs lining his driveway in multi-colored lights, projects snowflakes onto his roof, and has icicle lights, Santa Clauses, mini-trees, larger trees and plenty more.

Unlike in “National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation,” there is no Clark Griswold tangle of extension cords. Augustine upgraded his electrical panel from 100 to 200 amps and added a 100 amp subpanel with 11 circuits for his outside lights.

Imagine the pride when a man with such electrical prowess gets to say, “I can turn it all on with one switch.”

And next door ...

Bonura goes about it all a bit differently.

At Christmastime, he reassigns his swimming pool and air-conditioning circuits to his outside lights. And while his neighbor pulls out lights and displays from every nook of his house for nightly tests beginning in the summertime, Bonura puts up displays one at a time after the weather turns cool. If it works, it goes up. If it doesn’t, it’s set aside.

Despite their different approaches, the men work in synchrony. 

As elaborate light displays became a neighborhood trend, Bonura’s expertise as a fire safety instructor and Augustine’s rock and mountain climbing experience allowed them to help their neighbors solve decorating puzzles.

And now that both men live alone, they call each other whenever they require ladders or safety ropes, and place another call when they’re safely on the ground.

It’s not that people don’t offer to help. Generally, the two men don’t want any.

“I’d waste my time telling them where everything goes, so I might as well just do it,” Augustine said. “And if you don’t put it exactly where I want it, I’m going to change it anyway. Thanks for the offer, but no thanks.”

Pappy Ed’s lights

The lights increase Augustine’s electric bill by about $300 per month, which is why he doesn’t light up until Dec. 15.

When his neighborhood’s cult followers drive by before that date, questions rain down on Natalie and even her close friends, which is why, about four years ago, she created a Facebook page dedicated to her dad’s Christmas display, Pappy Ed’s Christmas Lights.

There, she sees posts and messages like, “I’ve been going here every year with my family for 15 years. This is our Christmas Eve tradition,” which proves that the risk of her dad climbing on the roof and spending the extra money is indeed “worth it.”

Bonura is motivated by “the joy and memories made by the people who come by.” And by both of his sons who have carried on his tradition of “putting their Christmas card on their house, where everyone can come around and see it.”

For Augustine, who babysits for his 4-year-old great grandson, Luca, three times per week, all the lights and his neighbor’s larger-than-life Christmas tree are “what takes us to our house.”

At least around Christmas, many South Hills residents feel the same way.

Abby Mackey: amackey@post-gazette.com IG @abbymackeywrites.

First Published: December 21, 2022, 11:00 a.m.