So Christmas. Surprisingly hard to write about. But let’s bunker down and do it.
So my memories of Christmas from my childhood revolve around being warm and tired. This may sound strange. Let me explain.
We always went to the Christmas Eve service at our church – we went to the Clayton Presbyterian Church, which was only a few small town blocks from our house. Some years we walked, but most of the time we drove since it was winter. The Christmas Eve service usually started around 9:30 PM, and lasted until 11:30 or midnight. So I was always very sleepy afterwards, and the car ride home could not last long enough. Tired and warm, I would get into bed and wait for morning. Christmas was so exciting.
I just thought of another thing. Our church’s choir was really good. I compare every church choir I ever hear to that choir, and they always come up short. When I was little, my mom would perform with them in their Christmas Cantata, and I just remember the force and power of that music. It was like a wall of sound. It’s still the reason why those classic carols like O Holy Night, Carol of the Bells, and Greensleeves are my favorites – minor chords, and blasting harmonies.
Which brings me to music. Man do I love music. The other day I got my saxophone out and started playing it. It started as a joke, but I kind of got into it. I really miss being a part of a band. It’s the wall of sound again. Nothing like it. So that’s Christmas, I guess. Being warm, tired, and surrounded by a wall of sound. Hot diggity dog.
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