I’m dreaming of a brown Christmas…

Christmas season means Christmas music, and we’ve been listening to a lot of it.  And by a lot, I mean Enya’s  holiday CD is on repeat; I can’t find my other Christmas CDs, and if the all-Christmas radio station plays “Winter Wonderland” one more time I am going to drive an icicle through the radio DJ’s heart, which is a most unChristmaslike thought.  Therefore, lots of Enya.  It relaxes me, too, which is good news for the radio DJ.

The Maiden’s favorite track on the CD is “White is in the Winter Night,” a sweet and catchy song about all the colors associated with Christmas.  I wasn’t sure she really *got* the meaning behind the lyrics, though, so when I heard her singing “White is in the winter night that everyone remembers,” I decided to find out.

Why do I always have to spoil the magic?

“Why is that winter night so special?”  I asked the Maiden.  “Why does everyone remember that special night when something wonderful happened?  What was the wonderful thing?”

Her answer: “It snowed.”

Gulp.  Surely her theological knowledge isn’t quite that lacking?  But then I realized: we live in the south.  Her memory doesn’t go further back than the summer of 2008, when we left Alaska for warmer regions.  Aside from pictures, she’s never really– to her knowledge– seen snow.  And that means that as far as she knows, a white Christmas is pretty much a miracle.

Can you imagine that? Somehow, that strikes me as odd.  Growing up in Canada, we had plenty of brown Christmases, but always held out hopes for a blizzard on Christmas Eve.  And even during the brownest of years, we had the occasional December flurry to help us on our way to that Christmassy feeling.

But not the Maiden.  True, in Alaska, she saw white Christmases, although in that case it was probably more white than Christmas, especially since the white lasted from October til May.  It’s funny to think that when she makes snowman crafts or sings about white winter nights, she doesn’t have a remembered, real-life experience to fall back on.  She doesn’t even know what snow feels like!  It’s like reading about the African savannah; you know it’s there (based on your blind faith in Rand McNally and the producers of the Lion King), but it’s sort of just something in a book or movie.

It’s an interesting thought.  Someday, though, there will be a white Christmas…and a white November, January, February and March, too, and maybe even a freaky white weekend in April or (God forbid) May.  And then, we’ll be singing a different tune: “I’m dreaming of a brown Christmas…”

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