The Christmas Special

Can someone explain to me how this is just?

I type in “Oldies Christmas” into Spotify, and one would assume, the top played Christmas playlist would have BURL FREAKIN’ IVES in it…

One would be wrong.

After searching plenty of playlists to set the mood for this post, we spiraled down a rabbit hole of anger. (The “we” here is clearly me.)

Anyway, Merry Christmas!

Haley and I talked for two entire minutes on whether we should do a Christmas post, and to be honest, I wasn’t paying attention on the outcome of that conversation. So, we are writing about Christmas! And what’s Christmas without music?

Nothing. It’s nothing without music.

This is generally where people challenge, “Monster Mash” doesn’t count, and don’t think that “Auld Lang Syne” does either. That is meshed in with Christmas.

On that note, let me share with you one of my favorite memories about Christmas.

My mom, like lots of other people, got me hooked on good Christmas music: Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra, Tony Bennett, Bing Crosby, and yes, BURL FREAKIN’ IVES. If you don’t know every name I just mentioned, get it together. We are all worried for you.

My sisters and I would watch all the old animated Christmas films, (that popular Reindeer always had our hearts) and on Christmas Eve, we would sit around our fireplace, eat tamales, beans and over-medium eggs. My parents, in their overwhelming generosity, (sarcasm, because they both read this blog 😉 would let us open a gift to share. This was a game we would always play as a family.

That was one of my favorite traditions, and we still do it every time my wife and I are in Arizona for Christmas.

Because I like telling stories in pairs, now comes a quick dramatization of the trial of all trials, nay, the torment, and utter impossible task of getting my older sister out of bed to open gifts on Christmas morning. I was always up first, and she was always last, after my little sister and parents.

I mean, for real! She absolutely would kiss a gorgon before bed on Christmas Eve, because when my happy little ass would skitter into her room to wake her up (that was my job every 25th) I would ALWAYS find a petrified corpse that was my older sister. In the end, Christmas would always be spectacular, and my family still holds strong to our traditions. I love that about this holiday.