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I don't know what the deal is with all this Christmas stuff in August, but as I've said before, it just proves that the slips of paper are randomly chosen.
When I was little, all the Christmases were a blur of sparkling lights, cookies, candies, wrapping paper, and gifts. You could hardly walk across the floor once everyone's gifts were opened for all the paper strewn across it. But setting gifts aside, my parents always took time to teach us about Christ's birth being the center of everything, and my mom made it happen by infusing the season with music: singing songs to and with us, playing the most high brow Christmas selections on the record or tape players, playing sacred hymns and carols on the piano, taking us to concerts for Handel's Messiah, and participating first-hand in Christmas caroling as a family.
Christmas was shaped for me then into a permanent form. Christmas is not Christmas enough unless there is music filling the air as often as possible.
You know, I never have forgotten Christmas in our household. It never hurts, though, to be reminded of these things...even in August. Thanks, Laura, for the fond memories that we can hold on to about our mother.
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