QotD: This Song Makes Me Festive (bah humbug)
I don't do "holiday cheer." I don't do Christmas (not least of which because no amount of churching managed to turn me into anything resembling a Christian.) In fact, I hate Christmas. The break-up wasn't Christmas' fault; it was me. All the things that I once loved about Christmas are gone, never to return again, and this song is an example of that. It's called The Monastery Bells--a real golden oldie of holiday music which a lot of people have never heard. (Probably because it originated in France in the 19th Century.) This recording is of a music box from the Rita Ford collection.
My grandmother owned this record, and owing to some maudlin perversion that I could not resist, I bought the CD five or six years ago.
This is the album that my grandmother played almost constantly during the holidays. All of the Christmas songs are performed by music boxes--many quite old and valuable--and the music has a strange wind-up-toy-come-to-life magic about it. My grandmother made Christmas magical, too. She decorated with tiny white lights and an avalanche of silver and gold gewgaws. Even when it wasn't Christmas, her house was a hushed shrine of calm and loveliness, but at Christmas...oh, it was like heaven. And then, my grandparents believed that children ought to be absolutely pandered to at Christmas, and they gave the best presents, made the holiday the most fun, with craft projects and outings.
Alzheimer's got her before death did, and the last real Christmas we had was the year before I went to college when I was fifteen. It has never been the same since, and now Christmas is all frantic commercialism and greed and insincerity. I don't have any use for it, but this album still does something for me. Unfortunately, it doesn't fill me with holiday cheer. It fills me with an entirely painful, heart-breaking nostalgia for those childhood Christmases and most of all for my grandmother.
This is the album that my grandmother played almost constantly during the holidays. All of the Christmas songs are performed by music boxes--many quite old and valuable--and the music has a strange wind-up-toy-come-to-life magic about it. My grandmother made Christmas magical, too. She decorated with tiny white lights and an avalanche of silver and gold gewgaws. Even when it wasn't Christmas, her house was a hushed shrine of calm and loveliness, but at Christmas...oh, it was like heaven. And then, my grandparents believed that children ought to be absolutely pandered to at Christmas, and they gave the best presents, made the holiday the most fun, with craft projects and outings.
Alzheimer's got her before death did, and the last real Christmas we had was the year before I went to college when I was fifteen. It has never been the same since, and now Christmas is all frantic commercialism and greed and insincerity. I don't have any use for it, but this album still does something for me. Unfortunately, it doesn't fill me with holiday cheer. It fills me with an entirely painful, heart-breaking nostalgia for those childhood Christmases and most of all for my grandmother.
Comments
it may be hard, but I do think it's good that you have those memories of your grandmother - hugs to you
I gotta say, though, that it doesn't make me feel better that everyone else is disappointed--I guess I thought people who did Christmas must like it. Anyway, I'm looking forward to some day having only happy thoughts instead of maudlin ones when I listen to this album.
That song gave me serious goosebumps.
Keep enjoying those holidays, Sabba. There IS magic there, still. But, man, do we ever do a great job at covering it up with STUFF.
iPod is a great idea for shopping.
Some of us aren't even *earning* yet, y'know? *glares at Theo and Arbed*
Yes ma'am, Ms. Lauri!
I'm so sorry about your Grandmother. I've never been one for holidays* either but it must be even worse to have that kind of connection between the holidays and a family member who's no longer with you.
Bring on the new year with all its insanity and anaesthetizing...uh...-ness!!! :)
(*rather, for being able to recapture that magical feeling of the holidays when I was a kid, the holy grail of emotional states, you know?)