My neighbors, Scott and Beverly, have a fun tradition that evolved from a Christmas Eve party during which everyone drank a bit too much eggnog. Scott has one of the deepest, raspiest, loudest voices I’ve ever heard. If you can see him you can hear him, and he doesn’t know how to whisper. This is especially hard when I’m trying to get my kids to sleep in the summertime.

This particular Christmas Eve party was winding down and Beverly, a warmhearted Christmas enthusiast, didn’t want to see it end. She suggested a singalong, the song being “The Twelve Days of Christmas”.

Anyone who has ever been Christmas caroling knows that this one is the mother of all Christmas songs. I know, because nearly ten years ago I went Christmas caroling with a big group of friends in our neighborhood. I didn’t realize until that night how many people might resent the idea of a bunch of strangers ringing their doorbell, swilling their spiked cider, and treating them to an off-key rendition of “Jingle Bells”, some of them trailing off halfway through because they’d forgotten the words. It started dawning on us (after we’d walked and sung for two hours or more) that perhaps our Christmas spirit was one-sided. We stopped in front of a darkened house and our ringleader, Vee, a fiery Southern-by-birth-and-don’t-you-forget-it matriarch marched up to the door and rang the bell. The door remained firmly closed and a disembodied voice said, “Yeesssss?”

“Who in the sam hill is that – the ghost of Christmas future?” Vee asked in her southern drawl, to the delight of the carolers, who hooted and doubled over laughing.

“The little box to the left of the door, lady. That there is the intercom,” the voice intoned. Vee leaned close to the box and started talking. “Push the button, ma’am.”

“Oh, right. Well, we’re a group of friends who got together to spread holiday cheer and we’d like to sing you a Christmas carol.”

Silence.

We waited for the homeowner to open the door. “Well? Go ahead,” the voice droned. Vee turned back to the rest of us and looked a bit doubtful. Then with a loud laugh she asked, “What are we waiting for; how about the ‘Twelve Days of Christmas’?” A collective groan arose, and I think the guy at the other end of the intercom groaned, too.

“On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…”, and so it started. Remember, this is a group that got halfway through “Jingle Bells” and forgot the words. We, and our electronic audience, were doomed. It was about forty degrees outside, and to us Southern Virginians it felt like twenty below. Most of us trailed off and tried to sneak away but while she was singing, Vee whipped around and fixed us with an un-Christmas-like glare. We stopped in our tracks and stood around, talking and laughing, while she finished the song, solo. Our caroling adventure ended there, with Vee marching home to bed in high dudgeon and the rest of us following to party in her (heated) garage until the wee hours of the morning.

Ten years later at a similar party, Beverly suggested “The Twelve Days of Christmas” and the everyone groaned, just as another group had done years before. Bev assigned each party-goer a part. With a twinkle of mischief in her eye she handed Scott his assignment. You guessed it – “a partridge in a pear tree”. If you can imagine Jack Nicholson singing a Christmas carol you are close to hearing the disaster that was Scott’s singing. The rest of us were nearly apoplectic with laughter every time his part came around, and the fact that his was the finishing line to every verse made it that much funnier. Between those of us who kept singing out of order (even with the lyrics printed on paper in front of us) and Scott’s rousing finale, this was a Christmas tradition that has taken on a life of its own.

Our Christmas Eve party has grown every year and we credit that growth in large part to the highlight of the evening, a traditional Christmas carol that took on a new life and became the cornerstone of our holiday celebration. Somehow this quirky little singalong brought an eclectic group of people together in a heartwarming way. Whatever goofy little thing might happen during your Christmas celebrations, whether it be happy or perhaps frustrating, you can flip it around and make it a tradition of your own.

Sing your Christmas Carols around a White Christmas Tree from http://www.ChristmasTreeForMe.com

Author Bio: Sing your Christmas Carols around a White Christmas Trees from http://www.ChristmasTreeForMe.com

Category: Short Stories
Keywords: christmas carols