“I’m dreaming of a white Christmas,

Just like the ones we used to know …”

                                                ~ Irving Berlin

As a kid, in Texas, I loved singing Christmas carols and could do a particularly superb job with White Christmas, Joy to The World, and the others that required throaty emphasis. (Frank, Bing and I all sounded eerily similar.) Not so much when I was back in Texas — but here in Colorado for the last fifty-odd years — a white Christmases have not been rare, but still a delight. Yes, we did have snow this Christmas, and since we didn’t need to travel anywhere, we enjoyed the warmth and comfort of home, while also enjoying the seasonal scenery.

Other than when I drive by myself with the radio on, I don’t have much opportunity for group singing anymore. That was always one of the few items on the short list of benefits of going to church as a kid:  the opportunity to sing in unison with others. Now, our church didn’t allow instrumental music, and in spite of the chorister’s initial pitch pipe, it was always challenge to find which was the precise right key among the several old ladies in the front who sang the loudest.

My elementary school music class included singing, but as the biggest boy in the class, it was embarrassing — and therefore less fun — to be placed in the soprano section. Summer camp also offered the opportunity for group singing; mostly along the lines of “Bill Bailey’s Goat” (he is fine, by the way …), and often as we marched as a group to or from the evening campfire meetings.

And, of course, since COVID, there are fewer gatherings and no one seems to be caroling around the neighborhood, but I am getting plenty of seasonal songs via radio or online. We’ve sent out our Christmas cards and wrapped all the presents, although shipping off gifts to people far away is not the same as giving them in person. We are getting plenty of cards in the mail, as well as gifts, and have had a great Christmas.

I was awakened early predawn Christmas morning, not by the clatter of tiny reindeer hooves, but the full moon shining in our window. It added a glow to the recent snow in the tree branches through the window, and made the darkness magical. (Maybe there was some clatter that woke me after all …)

I think that’s what Christmas is all about for me, something magical. The lights on the tree remind me of all my previous Christmases, and the warmth and fellowship they brought. The Christmas cards provide a connection often overlooked during the past year and there’s the excitement of gift giving and receiving. It’s also bittersweet, reminding me of those from previous Christmases that are no longer here. Christmas is also a time for children and their unbridled joy, but we seem to be short on young kids around here, and have to enjoy our extended family kids vicariously.

As the new year approaches, we’ll start the process of taking down the tree, putting the lights and decorations away, taking the cards out of the windows and getting back to our normal lives. However, the magic of Christmas will linger for a while and soon become another magical memory merged with those other Christmases past.

I suppose one benefit will be that I can resume singing country western songs instead of carols. (Be warned!)

“Your cheatin’ heart…”

     ~ Hank Williams