“All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth; my two tooth front teeth; my two front teeth.” Remember that song? Those words keep popping into my head as Christmas approaches. Released a few years before I was born, the words are a reminder of Christmases past. It’s a song that made its way into our house each year around the holidays. I can picture my father at the organ and my mother singing lyrics to his jazzed up, big band, version of that song.
My father, a musician by heart and an accountant by trade, made sure our home was filled with music, spending most evenings playing one of many mastered instruments – clarinet, saxophone, piano, or organ. And when he could talk me into it, we played duets, with me on flute or piano and him compensating for and enhancing my limited musical talent, so it was fun for both of us.
My mother, a Christmas enthusiast by any measure, insisted that after Thanksgiving the selected song menu in the Schindler house was limited to Christmas, since she couldn’t get them played by Dad the rest of year. Hence, for this limited time, my father turned away from his swing, jazz, and big band favorites and played traditional carols, popular Christmas songs, and holiday medleys, all sprinkled with his interpretation and enhanced musical flair.
But, I digress into warm cocooned memories, when fleeting ones around this particular childhood song still remind me that when I was the age of not having front teeth, I thought this a very silly song. I couldn’t imagine how anyone would only want one thing – to have their permanent teeth grow in – during a magical season when you could wish for something special … something big … something more. And while you might not get what you wanted, you could still believe it might come true.
Decades later, with that tune permanently affixed to my brain, the words I’m filling in aren’t about front teeth. I started this season with “All I want for Christmas is” … (continue reading →)