It Wouldn't Be Christmas Otherwise

I've been caroling every year on Christmas Eve with Uncle Willie (dressed as Santa Claus) and friends for at least six years now, probably longer. We generally sing at around ten or twelve houses, and stay out for about two hours. Most of the houses are one-shot deals, where we ring the bell, sing a song, and say Merry Christmas. A few, however, are special.

The second family we hit tonight invited us into their dining room as they ate Christmas dinner. They requested O Holy Night and the three of us that know the song muddled through the best we could.

At another house, the parents left a sack of presents outside the door for Santa to deliver to the five children inside. I was his elf, and calling out each kid's name and watching their faces light up is something that I will probably never forget.

At one house, we are expected every year, and every year they take pictures of us while giving us copies of last year's pictures. The girl there tonight was tracking Santa Claus' location (the real one, not Willie Claus) on the Weather Channel, and was pleased to inform us that he was just arriving in Paris, France.

The Golden Goblet house is by far the most special. Since the first year that Uncle Willie has been caroling, they have been at this house every year (26 straight years). The first year, they were served champagne in golden goblets, and the house has been so nicknamed ever since.

These are the people with whom I spend my Christmas Eve. They are strangers, but for a few minutes every year, they are family. It wouldn't be Christmas otherwise.

December 24, 2002 - 11:38 PM