Evans “Buddy” King
Every self-respecting (or aspiring in my case) columnist has to write a piece about Christmas music sometime.
I believe I have touched on the subject before but this one is full bore, an all-out tribute or assault depending on the song and the artist and the circumstance.
First, there are a few basic rules. You should not play or listen to Christmas music until after Thanksgiving. Turkey Day deserves its own special traditions, such as Turkey Trots, touch football and watching the Macy’s Day Parade and the Detroit Lions lose (sorry Cousin Kevin). Music optional or of your own choice. Don’t sully this family time with Jingle Bells.
Secondly, it is okay to play Christmas music after Dec. 25, all the way up to New Year’s Eve if you like, although it loses its pizazz for me, except for that brief moment of melancholy Christmas afternoon when I realize it will be 11 months until I can tune into the Traditional Christmas Music channel on Sirius XM again. Then I realize that I am just that much closer to the Carolina Shag station on XM and the Sports Illustrated bathing suit issue and the words “pitchers and catchers report,” so I move on and watch the remaining 4 airings of Christmas Story.
Next, only certain artists can be listened to – Sinatra, Perry Como, Bing Crosby and Nat King Cole, with early Johnny Mathis and non-schmaltzy Andy Williams’ songs on occasion. My wife and I disagreed on this rule – she developed a taste for people named Jewel and Michael Buble and Lady Gaga. I blamed this on her watching too much of the Today Show and ignored these CD’s in our stack. Our compromise was Kenny G – at least he didn’t sing. She also learned to tolerate my ritual of taking out of town visitors to the Perry Como Memorial in Canonsburg. It’s worth the trip.
My next rule addresses the songs themselves—there is certain Christmas music, which should either be banned or severely restricted. Little Drummer Boy (has driven many of us to the brink of insanity, Feliz Navidad (save me), Elvis’s “Have Yourself a Blue, Blue Christmas” (RIP Elvis but you should have left this one alone) and that terrible Hawaiian song (come on, who wants images of mai tai’s and palm trees at Christmas ? That is for January, not southwest Virginia or North Central West Virginia during the holidays).
“Rudolph” – I like it for young kids, but I developed a better feeling for Gene Autry when I learned that he did this song as a joke – never expected it to catch on. I can just picture Gene and the singing cowboys sitting around throwing a few down and recording.
Now I will turn to acceptable Christmas songs and some of the memories they evoke in me. In my mind’s eye these songs were all recorded in late November in little offices on the West Side of Manhattan, not in Hollywood in June as is sometimes misstated on the labels.
”O Come all yee Faithful” (memories of my Dad reading the Christmas story from St. Luke on Christmas Eve).
“Hark the Herald Angels Sing” (the children’s choir at St. Paul Methodist and how much I hated being in it, but I liked the melody).
“God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” (Caroling around Christiansburg – actually trying to hang out with girls who were caroling—my first Christmas break during college. I was with my friend Jerry Gilmore and I carried a pint of rum in my back pocket. I don’t think we opened it, but I wanted everyone to know I was a real college student).
“Chestnuts” – “The Christmas Song”. For some reason I remember watching the Art Linkletter afternoon show with my mother when I was 6 or so and hearing it sung by some guy named Mel Torme, whom I later learned wrote the song. That fact notwithstanding, Nat King Cole’s is the only version you should ever listen to.
“O Holy Night” – my daughter Beth and her best friend Karen singing it at Christmas Eve service at Bridgeport Methodist when they were 6 years old.
“I’ll be Home for Christmas” – when I listened to the end it took me to a place where my parents’ lives were during WW II – the ending, “if only in my dreams”, always makes me emotional, but then I try to imagine my Dad singing it and I start laughing. Worst singing voice in a family of wretched singers! Hall of Fame of Atrocious Crooners.
“There’s No Place Like Home for the Holidays “- memories of our big old house in Bridgeport when my daughters were very young and their mother and I stopped heading south for the holiday. We wanted the girls to know that Santa could find them.
“It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas” – memories of Shelton & Walters Men’s Store and its store front windows and Clifford Costigan decorating, and Taylor’s Office Supply, and Crede Taylor and his bushy white eyebrows like Santa and wrapping paper everywhere. Funny where memory takes you.
Finally, Johnny Mathis doing “Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas “ – J and I living in a little apartment after we were first married and me putting the song on and pouring us a couple of glasses of red wine around midnight on Christmas Eve. Nuf ced.
Merry Christmas.
Evans “Buddy” King grew up in Christiansburg and graduated from CHS in 1971. He lives in Clarksburg, West Virginia, where he practices law with the firm of Steptoe and Johnson PLLC. He can be reached at Evans.King@steptoe-johnson.com.
