In Defense of Christmas Music

A) There is a jackhammer outside of my window. It is 8:30 p.m. This is curious. I refuse to believe that whatever activity is involved is legitimate.

B) My favorite story from Thanksgiving (okay, after the one where the boy [a boy who joined my gracious hosts for Thanksgiving] decided to quiet the next door dog, which kept barking. He quieted the dog and returned. When asked how he did it, he said, "It was just as I thought! The dog had gotten himself stuck in the yard--he went in and the door closed behind him." His friend questioned this: "Are you sure that the neighbors didn't lock their own dog in their own yard?" They spent the next half an hour hunting down that dog.) was when we went to Concord (pronounced Con-curd; delightful town!) and were seeking the Authors' Ridge in the Sleepy Hollow Graveyard (this is where Alcott, Hawthorne [I love him], Emerson, etc. are buried). Since it was dark and we had no flashlight, the odds were not good of us finding it. We were there with Myrrh's sister, Little Bean, who was a bit confused about our desire to traipse around a graveyard after dusk. In honor of that fact, I started to tell her scary stories about the night we slept on the trampoline and were scared to think of our crazy neighbor who once killed the goat of one of our other neighbors. We found ourselves quickly at the top of a ridge, which I decided was most likely the proper ridge.

Me: "Frances Coleridge. That sounds famous."
Myrrh: "Coolidge or Coleridge?"
Me: "I don't know; I've forgotten."
Myrrh: "Here's a gravestone that says Hosmer; that's just like Homer."

C) W. (a sibling of the Frankinscence and Myrrh's, as part of a more than 10-hour car ride): "The funny thing is that people do not believe that I make funny sounds when I'm alone."

[Percy agrees; I proceed to make them demonstrate such sounds, which include funny voices, beat boxing (I'd never heard this term before), humming guitar solos in a high-pitched voice, and something that is suspiciously like talking to themselves (although they denied this).]

Percy: "The nice part of talking to yourself is that you can leave large parts of the sentence unspoken."

D) As far as I can tell, the majority of people I've been around for the first few days do not appreciate radio Christmas music. Gasp! I know--this is very surprising. And, combined with the inability of my old radio in my room (which must have grown accustomed to only the main pop and country radio stations) to pick up any Christmas music stations except when combined with a classical music station, is very disheartening. There is something to be said about Christmas music--first of all, it is a reason to look forward to Thanksgiving. Second, listening to it makes you happy because you remember listening to it while decorating the house and tree, which are wonderful activities. (This makes me think of that angel with a large silver skirt that turned around and played some beautiful song, and that pair of pink poodles that were a holiday ornament only because of the holly at their throats, and that glass nativity scene of which you broke two, Sterns, and claimed the third for yourself.) Third, it makes you think about snow, which is a delightful thought in December. Fourth, I love roommates who bring me chocolate. That is all.