Christmas is a time when you get homesick —
even when you’re home.
Carol Nelson
I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round, as a good time;
a kind, forgiving, charitable time; the only time I know of,
in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open
their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were
fellow passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys.
Charles Dickens
(an odd site here at home / Julie Cook / 2018
Driving home yesterday after visiting the dentist, I was cutting through an area of town
full of some of our communities older homes, when I found myself driving behind a
vintage WWII Army ambulance.
An odd sight but suddenly I felt strangely transported to a different time and era.
The vehicle, the homes, the time of year.
If you didn’t happen to notice the small security company sign out front of this house,
you might just think it was 1943.
My thoughts drifted across time and space to places that were far away from
my own current little corner here in Georgia.
Despite there being such a heightened sense of urgency wafting through the air
this time of year…
What with the odd increase in mid-day traffic and the massive number of folks hustling
here and there…along with that unseen force that was moving the masses of folks
to go out and buy, buy, buy with a frantic frenzy…
And despite the current pull I was personally feeling to race from the dentist to some
local den of commercialism, seeking out those last minute items to fill in the blanks…
I felt a tinge of warming nostalgia instead.
I heard Bing Crosby’s crooning…his rich melodious voice echoing deep in my head.
A small smile spread across my face for no one in particular to see.
A simpler time, yet a precarious time.
A warmer time of humanity, yet a violent time for our world.
No matter that it was an ominous time,
we knew what our collective civilization was fighting for.
We were a united civilization standing against a giant monster of tyranny and an invasive evil.
There was a decisive and determined collective willingness to sacrifice.
Rations, victory gardens, sharing and giving when there wasn’t ever much to give nor share.
There was a joint desire for unity.
A shared experience of apprehension blanketed by a blessed sense of thankfulness.
I found myself gently humming a familiar yet comforting tune.
My gift to you today…
“In 1943, “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” joined “White Christmas” to become one of
America’s most popular homegrown holiday songs.
Recorded in a rich baritone by Bing Crosby,
“I’ll Be Home for Christmas” shot to the top ten of the record charts
(as “White Christmas” had for Crosby the previous year)
and became a holiday musical tradition in the United States.”
Library of Congress
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