|
|
|
|
|
LAURA ON LIFE
|
Yep, it's the holiday season again. I know this not because of what the date is on the calendar (who has time to look?), but because of the songs that are being sung in joyful anticipation all over my house.
For some reason, my family feels the need to mispronounce and edit Christmas songs. It gives them visions of sugarplums, I guess. It can only be the fault of myself and my husband that my children don't know how to sing Jingle Bells unless the words "Santa smells…" follows it. Every prepubescent child has sung it this way from the beginning of time. They love Santa, so I can't understand why kids would sing a Santa-bashing tune just before he comes to town especially when they know that he knows when they are sleeping, when they are awake, and when they are being good or bad. Santa-bashing would definitely qualify as "being bad" to the man in red, don't you think?
As if the chorus of Jingle Bells isn't mangled badly enough, when they try to sing it correctly and they actually get to the verse, it comes out "Dashing through the snow, in a one Ho soap and slay…" and it goes downhill from there. Perhaps there is a difference in their mind between a "one Ho soap" and a "Ho Ho Ho soap". Snow-dashing must be the deciding factor. Whatever. If you are looking for logic here, forget it; they are decidedly lacking in that particular trait.
My husband has a few Christmas songs in his repertoire that have been carried over from summer camp when he was a kid. He sings them (and I use that term loosely) when the Christmas spirit moves him mightily. Thank goodness that doesn't happen very often. You wouldn't think that anyone would want to butcher a beautiful song like "Walking in a Winter Wonderland." But since some of his most inspired moments occur when he is in the shower, you can hear him over the stream of water, belting out, "Later on, we'll perspire, as we sit by the fire. So happy are we, just taking a…" Well, I'll let you use your imagination to finish that line. Suffice it to say that singing in the bathroom was marvelously appropriate for this little ditty.
If you catch him in the right frame of mind, you can hear him sing his version of the ever-popular, "Christmas Song": "Chet's nuts roasting on an open fire…Jack Frost nosing at your nip…"
No, I don't encourage this befouling of musical expression; because I don't want the children spouting that kind of drivel to their grandmother, a church elder, or the principal of their school. It's bad enough that they think Santa smells. My daughter thinks that's because Santa has such a big nose, bless her heart.
My husband has been singing these songs this way for so long that I really don't believe he knows how the real song goes. Far be it from me to enlighten him, though. That would take away his only joy in this season of…well…joy.
Thank goodness that this holiday irreverence does not extend to the more sacred Christmas hymns. In fact, the sweetest sound I ever heard was my 8-year old son and my 6-year old daughter practicing "Silent Night" together for a play they were in last year. Neither one of them can sing on-key, but what difference does that make?
Laura Snyder may be reached at lsnyder@lauraonlife.com
Or check her website www.lauraonlife.com for archived columns
|
|
|
Click On Banner For More Information
|
