Eric Brady

Doug Proffitt's yard in Shawsville includes 26 holiday inflatables.

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Like many politicians, they maintain artificial smiles. Air fills their heads.

People love them or hate them. Bob Dylan sang "there ain't no neutral ground," and for inflatable Christmas decorations, there ain't.

They puff up as quickly as offended liberals or Rush Limbaugh in full rant. When deflated, though, they have the forlorn look of a child's discarded doll.

Snobs snub the airblown, nylon Grinches, Santas, SpongeBobs and snow globes blowing plastic foam flakes. They wonder what Tigger has to do with Christmas. One local wag snorted that holiday inflatables should be rounded up and staked down only in trailer parks.

Nationwide, as holiday inflatables catch more consumers' eyes, debates blow up about the figures' aesthetic merit. More than 58 percent of participants in one recent survey declared the decorations to be "tacky, tacky, tacky."

But the balloonish creatures are appearing even in South Roanoke, the tony neighborhood where decorations tend to take a more conservative tone.

Dave Hrusovsky and Julia Collins consider their home on Avenham Avenue to be a kind of gateway to South Roanoke. They hope their eclectic blend of Christmas decorations, a mix that includes an inflated snowman, welcomes folks of wide-ranging tastes and socioeconomic roots. The snowman's one raised hand reacts to any wisp of wind and seems to wave.

But this holiday season Hrusovsky suffered a hitch of hesitation before staking down the snowman. Last year, an observer suggested the couple's yard was turning into Dollywood, the amusement park launched by Dolly Parton, who is both a songwriter of haunting ballads and an entertainer who can be brassier than a New Delhi gift shop.

"I wasn't going to do the inflatable snowman this year but they talked me into it," said Hrusovsky, with "they" being sons Clayton, 9, and Carson, 7, with support from their maternal ally.

Collins said kids count at Christmas. For adults, displaying inflatables requires a certain self-assuredness. "I think it's about being secure in your own skin," she said.

Pop culture expert David Urban is a professor of marketing at Virginia Commonwealth University in Richmond. Urban said Christmas inflatables appeal to some consumers because they offer "a lot of visual impact for not a lot of effort." He said they are new, non-traditional and "likely to spark conversation."

Related conversation isn't always polite.

"Tacky is in the eye of the beholder," said Urban. "Richmond is famous for its 'tacky lights tour' of homes that are decked out to the maximum for Christmas. Some people might call it tacky, others -- especially children -- would think it's great."

Fans of inflatable decorations defy pigeonholing. However, it's safe to say most occupy the opposite end of the spectrum from long-departed comedian W.C. Fields, who supposedly said, "Anyone who hates children and dogs can't be all bad."

Generally speaking, kids like holiday inflatables. And the adults who buy and display them seem to appreciate kids and their capacity for uncomplicated joy.

Yard decorators, people such as Suzie Briscoe and Elaine Mills on Canterbury Lane and Lesa Lisk and Chuck Merriman on Denniston Avenue, happily crow about the families whose minivans creep by their yards at night, sometimes discharging giddy children and parents armed with cameras.

The home of Briscoe and Mills near Wasena Park Elementary School catches stiff winds from the cemetery nearby. Thus, Briscoe and Mills strategically stake out each holiday season a sample of their Christmas inflatables. This year, the women anchored a 10-foot tall soldier from the Nutcracker in a comparatively wind-free zone of their smallish yard.

Inflatables are susceptible to the elements. Ice and snow stick to their nylon surface and can build up until they collapse the figure. Wind is another inflatables' nemesis, ripping seams, separating tethers and loosing anchors screwed into turf. "It's not like they're building them with ball bearings," said Merriman. "But, for the most part, they work pretty well."

And inflatables aren't just for Christmas; they're year-round. A spring storm in 2005 sprung free a large inflatable Easter bunny from the lawn of Fantasy Creations, a costume rental and sales business owned by Teresa Martin on Williamson Road. As a marketing tool, Martin swaps out inflatables according to the season, employing the decorations to turn motorists' heads. She owns about 20.

"People notice the inflatables and then they notice me." She doesn't know whether anyone noticed the 8-foot Easter bunny tumbling south along Williamson Road, where specialty shops sell a different genre of inflatables. "We found the Easter bunny about three blocks down the road in a hedge, all muddy and wet," not to mention deflated, said Martin.

Barflies girded by liquid courage once slashed the 45-foot snowman used each year by Timberland Mulch to draw shoppers to its Christmas tree stand. The vandals did not realize their commotion had roused Brett Bolen, co-owner of Timberland Mulch, who had been asleep nearby in his pickup. The culprits fled in such haste they nearly flipped their van, said Bolen, who found a 9-foot by 3-foot gash in the snowman.

"I patched him that night with glue," he said, and later added a sturdy patch.

Frosty still bears the scar.

In mid-November, The Wall Street Journal profiled Gemmy Industries Corp., the Texas-based company that dominates the market for airblown holiday inflatables and the creator a few years back of Big Mouth Billy Bass, the singing fish. Gemmy models sell and sell out around Roanoke, at Home Depot and Lowe's, at Kroger and other retailers. Price tags reach $150 and higher.

Gemmy spokesman Jason McCann declined to give specific figures, but said sales have "inflated nicely over the last two years." Karen Cobb, a spokeswoman for Lowe's, also would not divulge numbers, but observed, "I can say that inflatables are hot this season and a growing category for Lowe's." She said the home improvement retailer has carried 17 new designs this year, up from 12 designs last year.

Doug Proffit, 64, proudly displays 26 Christmas inflatables tied down in the front yard of his Shawsville home and a piece of a neighbor's lawn. He calls them "balloons" and he bought two more Saturday. Even a lithe ballerina could not safely tiptoe through Profitt's yard without tumbling arse over teakettle.

He's clearly a hero of the holidays to grandson Austen Schiffman, 9, who stiffened a little when Proffit quipped, "If I live 'til next year I'm going to put some balloons in the back yard."

"You don't need to worry about my grandpa dying," Schiffman sternly assured a visitor.

But is there room for the Christ child in this inflatable world? Gemmy does offer an airblown nativity scene and there's at least one in the Roanoke Valley, on Bandy Road.

Last Saturday, roofer David Ferguson stopped at the 7-Eleven store in South Roanoke before heading to a house on Wycliffe Avenue to install an 8-foot inflatable Santa on a friend's roof. Ferguson's ball cap included one word: Jesus.

Asked whether he is a Christian, Ferguson replied, "Amen, yes sir, saved by Jesus Christ." He said he and his wife differ on occasion about whether Christians ought to embrace secular holiday decorations. But Ferguson said he thinks Santa's OK.

"It's not going to affect my salvation if I put up a Santa Claus on a friend's house."