Posted tagged ‘Christmas’
Papa Ain’t No Santa Claus (And Mama Ain’t No Christmas Tree): Butterbeans and Susie
December 20, 2011Riu Chiu: The Monkees
December 20, 2011The Monkees sang one version live on their show in 1967, and I have that version, but it is scratchy and difficult to hear. This is the studio version.
“Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.”
December 20, 2011This morning I heard a bird sing. The song was lovely. I don’t know which kind of bird it was who serenaded me, but I am thankful for the song. Goldfinches are at the feeders now. An unfamiliar bird was there yesterday; it looked like a wren.
A red spawn and a gray spawn of Satan had a bit of tiff this morning on the deck. The gray spawn, far bigger than the red one, ended up losing and fell down to the ground. I swear I saw the red spawn raise its arms in triumph.
The day is cloudy and windy, the same as the last few days, but I don’t have to go out so I’m happy. I have the last of the presents to wrap, and I have the fixings to begin baking my cookies so I’ll be busy. I figure I’ll put on some schmaltzy Hallmark Christmas movie to watch as I wrap. Last night I watched A Christmas Carol with George C. Scott. I am a sucker for Christmas shows and movies, even the most sugary. I still miss Andy Williams singing Christmas songs with his brothers and the Osmonds.
When I was little, my mother used to read Twas the Night Before Christmas to us. I loved it and even as a four-year old had it pretty much memorized. One part, though, always seemed a bit strange to me. It was when the poor guy had to throw up the sash. I always wondered why he ate it and what in the heck a sash was anyway. I never asked. I just went with the story. One year the poem showed up on TV as a cartoon, and when the guy threw up the sash, I finally understood.
White Christmas: The Platters
December 19, 2011“Heap on more wood! the wind is chill; But let it whistle as it will, We’ll keep our Christmas merry still.”
December 19, 2011Last night dropped to the teens, as low as 14°, but, luckily, I was home warm and cozy wearing slippers and wool socks to complement my usual nighttime winter ensemble. Today feels warm at 39°. If the wind would disappear, it would feel even warmer. It’s strong enough to sway the big feeder and take the birds for a ride. I’d get car sick if I went back and forth that many times.
I never did get to the grocery store with my list but, instead, I went to a smaller store to pick up cat food and paper towels; however, I can procrastinate no longer and will leave for the Stop and Shop as soon as I finish here. I need to do my Christmas baking.
December 23rd was usually when we got out of school for vacation. We went to school the same as usual that morning, but it was never really a usual school day. We were far too excited to learn anything so the nun, knowing she was facing a losing battle, would vary the activities. In the morning we’d color Christmas scenes and make Christmas cards for our parents. In the afternoon we’d have a party.
My Christmas cards were seldom works of art. Most had a tree on the front because trees were easy to draw and decorate. I used a yellow crayon to make garlands because the white crayon was never any good to use. You couldn’t see it. You could feel it but not see it. I made dots of color for the lights but never ventured into ornaments. They would have looked like blobs. My inside messages tended to be on a slant and sometimes I ran out of space and had to loop my words. My mother made a big deal oohing and ahhing when I gave her my card. It was as if I had given her a real masterpiece. I always felt proud.
Christmas Day is a Sunday this year. When I was a kid, I loved it being on a Sunday. It was like cheating a little as it counted twice. It was both a Sunday mass and a Christmas day mass. We often went to the very first mass of the day walking to church in the cold darkness so we could hurry home to play with our new toys. I remember thinking we were the only people in the world awake that early. All the houses were dark, but, on the way home, the sky was light and the people were awake. We could see tree lights shining when we looked at the windows as we quickly passed by them. We were in a hurry to get home.
Silver Bells: Kate Smith
December 18, 2011Frosty the Snowman: Gene Autry
December 18, 2011Let It Snow: Ella Fitzgerald
December 18, 2011Il est né-Ça Bergers: Kate and Anna McGarrigle
December 18, 2011“And finally Winter, with its bitin’, whinin’ wind, and all the land will be mantled with snow.”
December 18, 2011No question about it. Winter has arrived. Today is the coldest day so far at 30°, and we have snow. When I woke up, only the deck had a dusting, but since then, the snow has started falling more heavily and can no longer be described as flurries. The ground is getting a light covering. The sky is white-gray, and the day has a dismal look about it, but we’re warm and cozy, and that’s all that counts. My tree is lit and looks beautiful shining through the darkness of the day.
If I were a kid, I wouldn’t get my hopes up for a free day tomorrow. The snow won’t accumulate as the size of the flakes is a giveaway to the impermanence of the storm. When you’re a kid, a snowstorm is a good one only when there is enough for snowmen, sledding, snowball fights and a day off from school.
I always wanted a white Christmas. It seemed to me that Santa’s sleigh would do its best work on snow-covered roofs, and Santa did, after all, live at the North Pole where it was snowy all year-long. It felt wrong to see grass and streets on Christmas Eve.
When I lived in Ghana, there was never hope of snow. The only time it felt chilly was during the harmattan around this time of year. Nights dropped to the 70’s, and the mornings were cold. Sometimes I swear there was even a crispness to the air. My students hated the harmattan. They had to layer to face the cold mornings to finish their chores. Some wore as many as three sweaters. I loved that sensation of feeling cold and at night I’d snuggle under my wool blanket. In the mornings, I’d sometimes wear a sweatshirt until the sun rose a bit more in the sky. I’d sit on my porch with my giant mug of coffee and watch the small children cut across the school compound to their primary school just outside the front gate. We always said good morning to each other. It was a daily ritual I loved.
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