Song in the Air

Song in the Air

December, 2006

     Honest Confession:  I love Christmas music.  All of it.  From Handel’s “Hallelujah Chorus” to “I’m Getting’ Nutin’ for Christmas.”  I grew up loving the music that in politically correct terms is called “seasonal melodies.”  At the Baptist Church we sang carols.  At school, Miss Ruth taught us all manner of songs, both religious and secular.  At home, my prize possession was a record player that looked like a suitcase, and I had an original 43 rpm recording of Gene Autry’s “Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer.”   

     On the flip side of “Rudolph” was a much, much lesser known ditty entitled “If It Doesn’t Snow on Christmas, How is Santa Gonna Use His Sleigh?”  In Arkansas, we dealt with that possibility—or rather probability—every year.  Although I love the thought of a white Christmas “like the ones we used to know,” I don’t remember snow in December very often, and we never approached the “Currier & Ives” beauty of “dashing through the snow.”  That didn’t deter my love for either song, and nothing has dampened my love for “Sleigh Ride” including a distinct lack of appreciation for it by various band directors at Ozark, notably Jeff Marlow who tried unsuccessfully to dodge my request for it during the days preceding the yearly band concert.

     Many people have favorite Christmas songs.  My mother’s favorite Christmas songs harkened back to her pre-small town days.  Having lived most of her life in cities, her favorite Christmas songs dealt with the sounds of Christmas.  She loved “Silver Bells” because it reminded her of Salvation Army bells, church bells, and the jingling sound of bells on department store doors.  Her favorite religious song reflected that memory as well.  She knew all eight or nine verses of “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day.”

     I could hardly write about favorite Christmas music without mentioning the generosity exhibited by the choir members of St. Mary’s Church at Altus.  They graciously allowed me, a non-Catholic, to join their choir each year for Midnight Mass for a number of years.  While adding new songs to my retinue, I had the marvelous experience of seeing Christmas begin from the heights of their choir loft.  My best memory from there is watching the women sing carols in Latin, the language of carols in their youth.  The soft glow on their faces more than made up for the difficulty I had with the unfamiliar words.

     But Christmas isn’t all carols.  It’s funny songs, and I like those too.  I like “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer” and “All I Want for Christmas is my Two Front Teeth”—a song I heard again sung impromptu by middle school students just the other day.  My daughter favors a song called “Christmas Cookies” by George Strait.  I think it reminds her of our family tradition of baking cookies on Christmas Eve.  However, I can’t believe she has forsaken Alvin and the Chipmunks whose “Just Can’t Wait for Christmas” echoed through our house at all times of the year for several years.

     Other people have favorite musicians.  My friend Richard favors Mannheim Steamroller’s combination of old and new forms of songs, and Tristan, Richard’s grandson recently recommended an interesting version of “Silent Night” by Thans-Siberian Orchestra which uses electric guitars mixed with a symphony orchestra.

     Occasionally, a particular rendition of a song will leave me less than inspired, but mostly any Christmas melody puts me in a “sing-along, hum-along, foot-tapping” frame of mind.  Whether it’s “Blue Christmas,” “Rocking around the Christmas Tree,” or “Up on the House Top” that delights you, I’ll sing along. If you prefer something more sedate, I’ll join you for “The Christmas Rose” or any of the many beautiful carols.  If you want to just listen to a non-vocal rendition, I can handle that too.

     There is one song that I nearly ruined:  “The Christmas Song.”  Written in 1944 and recorded by everyone from Michael Bolton to Hootie and the Blowfish, the song incorporates so much that we all think of as Christmas:  the cold, the anticipation, the wonder and simplicity of Christmas that makes children of us all.  One thing I hadn’t experienced personally until last year was the opening:  “Chestnuts roasting on an open fire.”  I had never had chestnuts.  As we were walking through Lagos, Portugal last year, admiring the lights and doing some window shopping, we found a man with a vendor’s wagon selling, you guessed it, roasted chestnuts.  “Ah-h-h-h,” I said.  “Here’s my chance to really know about that part of Christmas that Nat King Cole makes sound so lovely.” 

I bought a batch, hot off the roaster, in a paper cone.  Yuck!  Double yuck!  Chess nuts are not crunchy; they are mealy.  They aren’t tasty; they are gritty.  What a let down!  Now, every time I hear the beginning of that beautiful song, I frown.  I refuse, however, to let the beginning ruin the entire song, so with Mel Torme who wrote the song and the many others who sing it each year, I say, “Have yourself a merry little Christmas,” but I warn you:  stay away from the chestnuts! 

     Oh, yes, in case you wondered, according to Gene Autry, if it doesn’t snow, Santa will use a plane, a train or a bus to get to all of us who don’t really want a white Christmas after all.