I'm a lucky one, one of those whose childhood Christmas memories are filled with visions of sugar plums, aunts, uncles and cousins, and jolly old fat men (or the neighbors son) bearing gifts. I cannot find one unhappy or sad Christmas past in my storehouse of memories.
Christmas songs make their debut in our house each year as soon as the jack-o-lanerns are tossed into the woods. They are the only pre-Thanksgiving Christmas accessory allowed.
Never do they start with Silent Night or Rudolph, The Red Nose Reindeer. Instead, the first sounds of Christmas in our house rock their way in…with Bono, Jon, and all those British boys from '84.
It's seems impossible to start Christmas this year, but we're trying, baby, we're trying.
Never do they start with Silent Night or Rudolph, The Red Nose Reindeer. Instead, the first sounds of Christmas in our house rock their way in…with Bono, Jon, and all those British boys from '84.
It's seems impossible to start Christmas this year, but we're trying, baby, we're trying.
And now this one, with new meaning.
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