Ah…Christmas.

It’s still legal to say that in this country, isn’t it?

The Christmas season means different things to different people, and I would not presuppose to nail my feelings into your precious holiday memories. However, since this is my blog, and you are reading it, I will go ahead and share my feelings with you this season.
I hope that everyone is in touch with their family at this time of year. Since this time is all about some memories, and since most of our best and most important thoughts are tied into our childhood remembrances of Christmas, I wish that for each and every one of you. I am sitting here in SC wishing I was with my family this Christmas. I haven’t seen my brother or sister in many moons and I would really just like to sit and have some coffee with them and catch up on what’s going on. I would love to know what’s going on with my nieces and nephews, and their children whom I know exist but barely know as people. I am sitting and listening to some of the classics of Christmas music, and some of my obscure favorites as well. It’s amazing to me how much these old cheesy songs can reach down and touch our souls to the point of making us an emotional wreck and keeping us from doing really important things…like getting the cards out, and trimming the tree and hanging the lights on the house, and braving the malls to get that perfect gift for that special someone.

For me, Christmas is all about memories. It was the last time I can remember that my entire family got together that wasn’t a funeral. I can remember all my nieces and nephews opening gifts with me, and I can remember my aunts and uncles dropping by with gifts I hadn’t opened yet, and some more desserts to go with all the wonderful food that Mom and my sisters had made for the day. I remember football in the back yard, and how wonderful the house smelled. I remember the bright colors and lights, and the music. It’s funny to me how my perception and appreciation of Christmas music has changed in these past years. When I was a child, the old favorites rang in my ears, and I sang them with gusto whenever the season approached. My odes to Santa and Rudolph and baby Jesus would roll off my tongue with the greatest of ease and the maximum of joy.

Maybe that’s why folks get what they call the “Christmas Blues”.
I can see that.

Christmas, at least the secular celebration and annual vacation occasion that comes once a year, is a time when we remember more than anything. Christmas to the older, and those growing older, is a time for the young. If we’re lucky, we can relive the joys by watching the anticipation on our children and grandchildren’s faces as the magical day approaches, and vicariously relive our most wonderful times by observing them opening gifts and having the time of their lives. Ah, what glorious fun to be a child, isn’t it?
But that doesn’t change the steady tick of the clock, or the onslaught of age. It is no accident that the song that drove Bogie to drink in ”Casablanca” was a song called “As Time Goes By”. (Actually, it was love for a woman that drove him to drink, but that’s another blog entry for sure.) The relentless march of time is a judgment for which there is certainly no appeal. Christmas, for the aging, is a time to remember times gone by, and, just like our youth, lost forever and ever. By nature, that makes it very, very sad.
Christmas carols, to me as a musician, seem to be sad by design. Perhaps that is designed to force all of us to pause and consider things…

“When the dog bites, when the bee stings,
When I’m feeling sad,
I simply remember my favorite things, and little by little my heavy heart sings,
And then I don’t feel so bad.”

Thank you, Perry Como. Mama loved you, and I think you’re cool as well. But that seems to capture the feeling of the season. I mentioned earlier all of the family memories I cherish, and the reflections of my life and memories in the faces of my children and grandchildren. I do wonder about the poor folks who have no family at all at this time of year, who have no home or love or hope in their lives, and I wonder how they live day to day, much less this time of year. Hard to feel sorry for yourself when you consider that others have it much worse.

It’s been a hell of a year, friends and neighbors. There’s a war on terror, which, as necessary as it is, drives many folks mad trying to comprehend it. It was so much easier when evil had a real face that you could take a picture of. There is still much in this world of ours that could stand improvement, and most of that could occur by simply looking in a mirror and taking a heart-felt inventory. There is an onslaught of information from several sources…the Internet, evening news, radio, music, books, and blogs such as this one, which can overload our feeble minds as we attempt to assimilate and collate all the data blasting into our collective heads…..
As I type this, the wonderful piano of George Winston interpolating “Carol Of The Bells” has moved to the next track. Written hundreds of years ago by a genteel court composer in Germany, it remains, to this day, the most realistic human rendition of what choirs of angels must truly sound like. As I listen to the harmony, and the words, and the phenomenal, ingenious music, I think of what those shepherds watching the flocks by night must have heard all those thousands of years ago. I have the urge to raise my tired gaze skyward, and consider with heart and mind the true meaning of the season as it was taught to me as a young man. Some things never change, and when they do…well, there’s always room for improvement. But some things can never be improved upon. And the current example has been given to us by George Fredric Handel.

Hallelujah, Hallelujah!
For the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth,
And He shall reign for ever and ever.
Kings of Kings, and Lord of Lords,
Hallelujah, Hallelujah!

Reading it doesn’t do justice. Get a recording, and listen to the entire Hallelujah chorus very loud. When you’re done, listen to it again. And while you do, cast your eyes heavenward. Go ahead, give it a shot, you cynic. Look to the skies and attempt to perceive what this season, and this existence, is all about. Consider that there are greater things than can be conceived of in your philosophy. And consider why, after so many years, we’re still celebrating Christmas, for whatever reasons. Longevity says a lot, even to the heathens among us.
Think, and pause, and think again. And then call your family and friends. They’re waiting to hear from you.

Peace to all of you, and Merry Christmas. Be happy, and love somebody, even if it’s just yourself. And mean it when you do. really, really mean it. It's the only chance you get...make it count.