All of this great, lasting poetry orginated in a world far worse than ours. Some of them came from the age of unset broken bones, no anaesthesia and infant death. In them it isn't only the expectation of something better in the next world, but the possibility of joy in this one. This reality has to emerge in that direction, too, because if joy in this world is your only interest, then you'll be denied it here and in the next world too.
Thank you for this, DC. The modern world is better, but we aren't....which is why enduring art like this keeps the lights burning when we fail to put a match to the wick ourselves.
Christmas for me is always clarified by the music, too, and the Santa part is always in the background. The first image is always the choir in the little 19th-century Gothic church we attended. It isn't Bob Hope, or snowmen, or the cold house in 1949, or blizzards. It's the carols and hymns and the transcendant melodies that find your soul however deep you've buried it. The Hound of Heaven snaps at your heals even as you run away.
Wow Rhod that brings back a flood of memories, I remember black friday and taking the trolley to Buffalo with my Mother, sister and brother, the whole town was decorated, there were Christmas scenes in all the store windows and they were animated, little villages with people walking around the music and the thousands of people. Even the Palace Burlesque, was decorated.
But best part of the trip for me was the Lionel Train store they had two floors with trains everywhere, running up mountains through towns and tunnels, all the kids that came to Buffalo could spend a couple of hours there in awe just watching all that was going on.
Santa Claus was in every store and at 4 it was tough to understand how he could get from one store to the next so fast.
The snow was deeper then and whiter too and everything had a character of its own.
But the best part was after Christmas day Christmas evening everyone would gather around the RADIO and watch Jack Benny and his Christmas Show.
Today the magic is all gone.
Mall shopping can never compare to the kind of city shopping you're describing, Mark. I was an American Flyer kid, myself. We coulnd't afford a Lionel.
I think the snow was deeper then because they didn't remove it like they do now, and the '36 Chrysler we had was typical of most of those cars. It was heavy, and with chains nothing could stop it. You could make an entire modern car out of one '36 Chrysler radiator grille.
It's been so warm so far this year I've had to lay off my sherpas and revoke their Christmas turkeys.
Gentlemen,
Thank you for those memories. I can see them in my mind's eye, even though I've never seen snow at Christmas. And though I am a bit younger, let's say, I remember how big electric trains were. I got a Lionel for Christmas one year, and wow ...
The only thing I would add is that, yes, though, much has changed, the magic really isn't gone.
Whenever I hear Nat King Cole singing The Christmas Song, I am back with my dad singing along. If we keep it alive, it never dies. And others get the benefit, too.
Thanks again to you both, and have a very, Merry Christmas.
DC
Maybe it is the magic I saw at that time, it was a magnificient time of the year.
It was Christmas 50' or 51' My father bought my mother a car for Christmas it was a little foreign job called a Crosly.
That noon we were to go over to my Uncles house for Christmas dinner and open presents there, so my Dad had my Mother drive us over and he would come over later. He needed to go get the car he had stashed at a neighbors house. About an hour later my Uncle took us all outside (right on cue) and down the street we could all see this little blue car riding on the sidewalk, there was no snow that year, so he had a clear shot. It was great.
Today I don't think he would have had such an easy time.
A Crosley? Little bullet grille? I think Crosley was absorbed into Nash American, or maybe Kaiser Fraser. Cute little car.
Merry Christmas, DC, and to all your readers. And a very happy new year!
Here's a different Christmas memory, and it is as far back as I can remember Christmas. I was so small that my parents didn't take me Christmas shopping, and as I looked at the presents under our tree, not a single present was FROM me. When I pointed out that I needed to go buy presents for my brother and sisters, my dad told me not to worry, they didn't expect little me to give them anything.
I'm not easily discouraged, even with no stores (we lived on a farm in the country) I was resourceful.
My dad loved his pipe. So I wrapped it up, along with his tobacco and put it under the tree, along with my sister's hair brush (she was soooo vain) my brother's teddy bear (he couldn't sleep without it) and my mother's Bible.
When these all so important items all turned up missing - my Daddy put two and two together and asked if I knew where the lost items were.
I can still feel his arms around me as my shoulders shook when I sobbed that I'd wrapped them up because I had nothing to give.
The next day he took me Christmas shopping.
It's never been about what to receive at Christmas, its always been about giving. My Christmas wish - that you are able to give your loved ones just what they wanted...
I think you understood the reason for giving even at that age.
I think you're right, Rhod. What a great story, Kathy. Thanks for sharing it here. Best to you and all the great crew and Hang Right.
Speaking of memories ... I just read my 6-year-old "Rudolph" and now I hear her singing the song in her room as I am typing this.
But wait ... She's singing my version (Rudolph the Big Fat Reindeer), something about Rudolph having a "big fat belly, and if you ever saw it, you would think it was made of jelly."
Man, is nothing sacred any more?
Well, I better get going so I can get started on my shopping.
My father was a baker. Christmas morning was a time to recover from weeks of hectic 14 hours per day baking sessions. Even Santa's gifts were not to be opened (or touched) until Dad had risen from bed, usually at about 10:30ish. I attribute my lifelong patience to those Christmas mornings of my youth.
I can still recall the perfume of coffee, bacon and fried potatoes. I need only to close my eyes to feel the tension of forced silince. Mom would repeatedly insist that we let daddy sleep. Jeez, as I think back, he must have been drained of any holiday spirit. He was truly a hero.
In the afternoon, Uncle Mimi and his friend Mrs.Dolce would stop by for "coffee and cake". To Mrs. Dolce, coffee meant glasses of brandy and pieces of aromatic hard Christmas ribbon candy. Mimi took his cake in the form of highballs. Eventually, my mom would convince a well-lubricated Mimi to sing a few songs. He was a baritone, and a good one too. Family legend was that he had once auditioned for Kay Kyser.
He'd sing song after song, each more beautiful than the last. I remember Stardust and I'll Be Seeing You. My Mother always wanted to hear It Had To Be You. He's do requests. He knew all the lyrics. Jeanie, Ed and I would ask for How Much Is That Doggie In The Window or Ghost Riders In The Sky, and Mimi would come through.
These are memories of people I'll never touch or see or hear again, but if I want to make Christmas come alive I need only remember Mimi belting out Donkey Serenade. Suddenly I'm back in time watching him strum his air ukelele and hearing my mother laugh and then double over from her giggle-hiccups. My Dad would happily take a big drag from his Pall Mall while toe-tapping and we kids would mimic hiccups while squealing with naughtiness.
The Donkey Seranade. The musical Christmas memory of my life.
There's a song in the air,
But the fair senorita
Doesn't seem to care
For the song in the air.
So i'll sing to my mule
If you're sure she won't think that
I am just a fool
Serenading a mule.
Amigo mio, does she not have a dainty bray?
She listens carefully to each little word we play.
La bella senorita?
Si, si, mi muchachito,
She'd love to sing it too if only she knew the way.
But try as she may,
In her voice there's a flaw!
And all that the lady can say
Is "e-e-aw!"
There's a light in her eye,
Tho' she may try to hide it,
She cannot deny,
There's a light in her eye.
Oh! the charm of her smile
So beguiles all who see her
That they'd ride a mile
For the charm of her smile.
Amigo mio, is she listenin' to my song?
No, no, mi muchachito, how could you be so wrong?
La bella senorita?
Si, si, la senorita,
If she knew all the words,
Well, maybe she'd sing along . . .
Her face is a dream
Like an angel i saw!
But all that my darlin' can scream
Is: "e-e-aw!"
Senorita donkey sita, not so fleet as a mosquito,
But so sweet like my chiquita,
You're the one for me.
I've never been able to "live for the moment" for the reasons left here by Nickie and Kathy and DC and Mark.
Now without the continuity of Then is no life at all.
Thank you for your memories.
Thank you D.C. I love Christmas music, I have such happy memories of Christmas as a child.
I grew up in Illinois and we always had snow at Christmas. I adore the snow.
Christmas Eve we always went to a church service and then got together with friends afterward at our home for hot chocolate. My dad had a sleigh and he would hook up one of our horses to it and we would take the sleigh down our road to the neighbors and go up to each house and sing Christmas carols. My dad loved to put big bells on the harness so as the sleigh would move down the snowy road the sound of those bells would ring in the chill of the air. Their sound was not tingy but like a low muffled sound of a bell ringing.
Christmas morning the fireplace was started early, aglow with dancing flames, candles lit throughout our home and the smells of pine from the tree. Waking up and opening our presents after mom and dad woke up. Then later in the morning special friends of their's stopping by for an egg nog on their way to their Christmas festivities with their own families.
Relatives arriving and my favorite Aunt bringing her homemade fudge I loved so much. And her hand knitted items she worked on during the year as our special gifts of love from her.
After dinner all of us gathering around the piano and singing Christmas carols. Oh how I loved that part so much.
Thank you D.C. and I am so glad to have met each of you on here. Thank you and Merry Christmas to all of you.
Thank you, W. Thing and Goomba for sharing those thoughts. It's a blessing for us all, and especially for your families, I'm sure, to take them in.
Hope you had a great Christmas, all.
Now, I've got to get to the malls for the after-Christmas sales. Not.
Awesome.
Merry Chrismas, DC.
DC, I hope you had a very very Merry Christmas and will havev a happy and prosperous New Year.
I'm so fat.
No, Rhod... I must disagree. Although, personally, I wouldn't wear those horizontally-striped angora sweaters y'all seem to favor up there in the New England.
Goomba, I haven't worn one of those since the winter of '58...the same winter we wore "car coats" and "stadium jackets". But true. Horizontal stripes favor the slender erect.
What's this "y'all" stuff? What happened to "youse guys"?
I'm trying to change the Goomba image to more of a latterday Charlie Weaver. I'll have letters from home, banjo solos and salutations like "Mosy on by, beanpickers!"
As Fagan sang... "I think I better think it out again".
Fagan? I see Charlie Weaver's anti-Semitism hasn't changed. Cliff Edwards is the name on the wanted poster.
Thanks to Michael and Ogre for the well wishes. Here's hoping your '07 is great, as well.
Nickie and Rhod, well ... thanks for showing us the possibilities of a Christmas thread.
He started it.
Horizontal striped sweaters, I bought a suit from the 'HongKong' tailor it was a striped suit all right and yup the stripes went horizontal it was the most bizarre suit you ever saw.
I almost had a horizontal-striped suit, but they dropped the charges.
Hey Mark, was that the James Lee Tailor in Hong Kong? They had an office in Saigon; they'd make anything for you and ship it home.
Trouble is, they measured sleeve length and inseam differently than in The West, so the sleeves were always too long and the pants legs were always too short.
To look right, you had the bend at the knees and hike up your shoulders, so you ended up looking like Dick Durbin.
Rhod
It didn't stay together long enough to find out. I learned later on they only single stitched all parts of the suit. After about a month it started to unravel. Yeah it was wierd all right, when I first tried it on it was exactly that, it was a fool me once shame on you deal I never went back to the guy, but he was never at a loss for customers, new suckers err.. customers came in every week.
Mark:
I remember two that I bought. Nice tweed, but each one cost about two Piastres, with delivery. If I recall, that's one hundred Dong, or about two bucks American. It was a Vietnamese version of Gentleman's Warehouse.
My favorite time of the year also. I decorate the house with lots of lights and play all the carols so passer bys can hear. Thankfully my neighbors have never complained
I take great pride in greeting ALL with a heartfelt "Merry Christmas". Were I to be greeted with a Happy Channukah or a Rockin' Ramadam, I'd be flattered.
I do so with no wish to offend nor be offended. Only "Happy Holidays" offended me until this year when I was offered a "Happy Winter" upon entering a retail establishment.
I would bug my neighbors with Carols but my iPod barely carries sound more that 2 inches.
Nickie,
Wishing you a Happy Channukah.
DC, I enjoyed a little Carol singing this year - the Rabbi's wife and I went to a "Sing Along Messiah". They had Carols at the end, and I confess to having to read the back of the program for the words. My favorits are "O Holy Night" and "Do you hear what I hear."
Merry Christmas, Happy Channukah to you all.
Thanks for checking in and for the wishes, Julie. Happy Channukah, Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year to you, as well.
By the way, the 2nd Blogiversary post is up. It was fun. 
Y'all made your New Year's resolutions?
Resolving to not change a thing doesn't really count...
I saw your scandalous post, and I encourage all of my like-minded troglodytes to head over and wish Julie well on 2 years.
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