'Twas the day after Christmas, and all through the house,
Every creature was hurtin', even the mouse.
The toys were all broken, their batteries dead;
Santa passed out, with some ice on his head.
Wrapping and ribbons just covered the floor,
While upstairs the family continued to snore.
And I in my T-shirt, new Reeboks and jeans,
I went into the kitchen and started to clean.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the sink to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the curtains, and threw up the sash.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a little white truck, with an oversized mirror.
The driver was smiling, so lively and grand;
The patch on his jacket said "U.S. POSTMAN."
With a handful of bills, he grinned like a fox
Then quickly he stuffed them into our mailbox.
Bill after bill, after bill, they still came.
Whistling and shouting he called them by name...
"Now Dillard's, now Broadway's, now Penny's and Sears
Here's Robinson's, Levitz's and Target and Mervyn's.
To the tip of your limit, every store, every mall,
Now charge away--charge away--charge away all!"
He whooped and he whistled as he finished his work.
He filled up the box, and then turned with a jerk.
He sprang to his truck and he drove down the road,
Driving much faster with just half a load.
Then I heard him exclaim with great holiday cheer,
"Enjoy what you got. . . . . .you'll be paying all year!
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Word of the Day
tarradiddle \tair-uh-DID-uhl\, noun:
1. A petty falsehood; a fib.
2. Pretentious nonsense.
Oh please! Even in the parallel universe, tarradiddles of this magnitude cannot go unchallenged.
-- "Taxation in the parallel universe", Sunday Business, June 11, 2000
Mr B did not tell a whopper. This was no fib, plumper, porker or tarradiddle. There was definitely no deceit, mendacity or fabrication.
-- "Looking back", Western Mail, May 11, 2002
Other amendments, such as a chef at the birthday party, a dancing bear in the hunting scene, and a brief solo for the usually pedestrian Catalabutte, seemed more capricious, and the synopsis suggested further changes had been planned but perhaps found impractical. Some tarradiddle with roses for death and rebirth also necessitated different flowers for the traditional Rose Adagio.
-- John Percival, "The other St Petersburg company", Independent, November 22, 2001
Tarradiddle is of unknown origin.
1. A petty falsehood; a fib.
2. Pretentious nonsense.
Oh please! Even in the parallel universe, tarradiddles of this magnitude cannot go unchallenged.
-- "Taxation in the parallel universe", Sunday Business, June 11, 2000
Mr B did not tell a whopper. This was no fib, plumper, porker or tarradiddle. There was definitely no deceit, mendacity or fabrication.
-- "Looking back", Western Mail, May 11, 2002
Other amendments, such as a chef at the birthday party, a dancing bear in the hunting scene, and a brief solo for the usually pedestrian Catalabutte, seemed more capricious, and the synopsis suggested further changes had been planned but perhaps found impractical. Some tarradiddle with roses for death and rebirth also necessitated different flowers for the traditional Rose Adagio.
-- John Percival, "The other St Petersburg company", Independent, November 22, 2001
Tarradiddle is of unknown origin.
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
A Christmas Poem
The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light, I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight. My wife was asleep, her head on my chest, My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.
Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white, Transforming the yard to a winter delight. The sparkling lights in the tree I believe, Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.
My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep, Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep. In perfect contentment, or so it would seem, So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.
The sound wasn't loud, and it wasn't too near, But I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear. Perhaps just a cough, I didn't quite know, Then thesure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.
My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear, And I crept to the door just to see who was near.
Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night, A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.
A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old, Perhaps a Marine, huddled here in the cold. Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled, Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.
"What are you doing?" I asked without fear, "Come in this moment, it's freezing out here! Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve, You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!"
For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift, Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts. To the window that danced with a warm fire's light.
Then he sighed and he said "Its really all right, I'm out here by choice. I'm here every night." "It's my duty to stand at the front of the line, That separates you from the darkest of times.No one had to ask or beg or implore me, I'm proud to stand here like my fathers before me. My Gramps died at 'Pearl on a day in December,"Then he sighed, "That's a Christmas 'Gram always remembers."My dad stood his watch in the jungles of 'Nam And now it is my turn and so, here I am. I've not seen my own son in more than a while, But my wife sends me pictures, he's sure got her smile.
Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag, The red, white, and blue... an American flag.
I can live through the cold and the being alone, Away from my family, my house and my home. I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet, I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat. I can carry the weight of killing another, Or lay down my life with my sister and brother...Who stand at the front against any and all, To ensure for all time that this flag will not fall."
"So go back inside," he said, "harbor no fright,Your family is waiting and I'll be all right."
"But isn't there something I can do, at the least, "Give you money," I asked, "or prepare you a feast? It seems all too little for all that you've done, For being away from your wife and your son."
Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret, "Just tell us you love us, and never forget. To fight for our rights back at home while we're gone, To stand your own watch, no matter how long. For when we come home, either standing or dead, To know you remember we fought and we bled. Is payment enough, and with that we will trust, That we mattered to you as you mattered to us."
Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white, Transforming the yard to a winter delight. The sparkling lights in the tree I believe, Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.
My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep, Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep. In perfect contentment, or so it would seem, So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.
The sound wasn't loud, and it wasn't too near, But I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear. Perhaps just a cough, I didn't quite know, Then thesure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.
My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear, And I crept to the door just to see who was near.
Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night, A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.
A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old, Perhaps a Marine, huddled here in the cold. Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled, Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.
"What are you doing?" I asked without fear, "Come in this moment, it's freezing out here! Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve, You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!"
For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift, Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts. To the window that danced with a warm fire's light.
Then he sighed and he said "Its really all right, I'm out here by choice. I'm here every night." "It's my duty to stand at the front of the line, That separates you from the darkest of times.No one had to ask or beg or implore me, I'm proud to stand here like my fathers before me. My Gramps died at 'Pearl on a day in December,"Then he sighed, "That's a Christmas 'Gram always remembers."My dad stood his watch in the jungles of 'Nam And now it is my turn and so, here I am. I've not seen my own son in more than a while, But my wife sends me pictures, he's sure got her smile.
Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag, The red, white, and blue... an American flag.
I can live through the cold and the being alone, Away from my family, my house and my home. I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet, I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat. I can carry the weight of killing another, Or lay down my life with my sister and brother...Who stand at the front against any and all, To ensure for all time that this flag will not fall."
"So go back inside," he said, "harbor no fright,Your family is waiting and I'll be all right."
"But isn't there something I can do, at the least, "Give you money," I asked, "or prepare you a feast? It seems all too little for all that you've done, For being away from your wife and your son."
Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret, "Just tell us you love us, and never forget. To fight for our rights back at home while we're gone, To stand your own watch, no matter how long. For when we come home, either standing or dead, To know you remember we fought and we bled. Is payment enough, and with that we will trust, That we mattered to you as you mattered to us."
The Tablecloth
The brand new pastor and his wife, newly assigned to their first ministry, to reopen a church in suburban Brooklyn,arrived in early October excited about their opportunities. When they saw their church, it was very run down and needed much work. They set a goal to have everything done in time to have their first service on Christmas Eve.
They worked hard, repairing pews, plastering walls, painting, etc, and on
December 18 were ahead of schedule and just about finished.
On December 19 a terrible tempest - a driving rainstorm hit the area and
lasted for two days.
On the 21st, the pastor went over to the church. His heart sank when he saw that the roof had leaked, causing a large area of plaster about 20 feet by 8 feet to fall off the front wall of the sanctuary just behind the pulpit, beginning about head high.
The pastor cleaned up the mess on the floor, and not knowing what else to do
but postpone he Christmas Eve service, headed home.
On the way he noticed that a local business was having a flea market type sale for charity so he stopped in. One of the items was a beautiful, handmade, ivory colored, crocheted tablecloth with exquisite work, fine colors and a Cross embroidered right in the center. It was just the
right size to cover up the hole in the front wall. He bought it and headed back to the church.
By this time it had started to snow. An older woman running from the opposite direction was trying to catch the bus.. She missed it. The pastor invited her to wait in the warm church for the next bus 45 minutes later.
She sat in a pew and paid no attention to the pastor while he got a ladder, hangers, etc., to put up the tablecloth as a wall tapestry. The pastor could hardly believe how beautiful it looked and it covered up the entire problem area.
Then he noticed the woman walking down the center aisle. Her face was like a sheet.. "Pastor," she asked, "where did you get that tablecloth?"
The pastor explained.
The woman asked him to check the lower right corner to see if the initials, EBG were crocheted into it there. They were. These were the initials of the woman, and she had made this tablecloth 35 years before, in Austria.
The woman could hardly believe it as the pastor told how he had just gotten the Tablecloth. The woman explained that before the war she and her husband were well-to-do people in Austria. When the Nazis came, she was forced to leave. Her husband was going to follow her the next week. He was captured, sent to prison and never saw her husband or her home again.
The pastor wanted to give her the tablecloth; but she made the pastor keep it for the church. The pastor insisted on driving her home, that was the least he could do.. She lived on the other side of Staten Island and was only in Brooklyn for the day for a housecleaning job.
What a wonderful service they had on Christmas Eve. The church was almost full. The music and the spirit were great. At the end of the service, the pastor and his wife greeted everyone at the door and many said that they would return One older man, whom the pastor recognized from the neighborhood continued to sit in one of the pews and stare, and the pastor wondered why he wasn't leaving.
The man asked him where he got the tablecloth on the front wall because it was identical to one that his wife had made years ago when they lived in Austria before the war and how could there be two tablecloths so much alike.
He told the pastor how the Nazis came, how he forced his wife to flee for her safety and he was supposed to follow her, but he was arrested and put in a prison.. He never saw his wife or his home again all the 35 years in between.
The pastor asked him if he would allow him to take him for a little ride. They drove to Staten Island and to the same house where the pastor had taken the woman three days earlier.
He helped the man climb the three flights of stairs to the woman's apartment, knocked on the door and he saw the greatest Christmas reunion he could ever imagine.
They worked hard, repairing pews, plastering walls, painting, etc, and on
December 18 were ahead of schedule and just about finished.
On December 19 a terrible tempest - a driving rainstorm hit the area and
lasted for two days.
On the 21st, the pastor went over to the church. His heart sank when he saw that the roof had leaked, causing a large area of plaster about 20 feet by 8 feet to fall off the front wall of the sanctuary just behind the pulpit, beginning about head high.
The pastor cleaned up the mess on the floor, and not knowing what else to do
but postpone he Christmas Eve service, headed home.
On the way he noticed that a local business was having a flea market type sale for charity so he stopped in. One of the items was a beautiful, handmade, ivory colored, crocheted tablecloth with exquisite work, fine colors and a Cross embroidered right in the center. It was just the
right size to cover up the hole in the front wall. He bought it and headed back to the church.
By this time it had started to snow. An older woman running from the opposite direction was trying to catch the bus.. She missed it. The pastor invited her to wait in the warm church for the next bus 45 minutes later.
She sat in a pew and paid no attention to the pastor while he got a ladder, hangers, etc., to put up the tablecloth as a wall tapestry. The pastor could hardly believe how beautiful it looked and it covered up the entire problem area.
Then he noticed the woman walking down the center aisle. Her face was like a sheet.. "Pastor," she asked, "where did you get that tablecloth?"
The pastor explained.
The woman asked him to check the lower right corner to see if the initials, EBG were crocheted into it there. They were. These were the initials of the woman, and she had made this tablecloth 35 years before, in Austria.
The woman could hardly believe it as the pastor told how he had just gotten the Tablecloth. The woman explained that before the war she and her husband were well-to-do people in Austria. When the Nazis came, she was forced to leave. Her husband was going to follow her the next week. He was captured, sent to prison and never saw her husband or her home again.
The pastor wanted to give her the tablecloth; but she made the pastor keep it for the church. The pastor insisted on driving her home, that was the least he could do.. She lived on the other side of Staten Island and was only in Brooklyn for the day for a housecleaning job.
What a wonderful service they had on Christmas Eve. The church was almost full. The music and the spirit were great. At the end of the service, the pastor and his wife greeted everyone at the door and many said that they would return One older man, whom the pastor recognized from the neighborhood continued to sit in one of the pews and stare, and the pastor wondered why he wasn't leaving.
The man asked him where he got the tablecloth on the front wall because it was identical to one that his wife had made years ago when they lived in Austria before the war and how could there be two tablecloths so much alike.
He told the pastor how the Nazis came, how he forced his wife to flee for her safety and he was supposed to follow her, but he was arrested and put in a prison.. He never saw his wife or his home again all the 35 years in between.
The pastor asked him if he would allow him to take him for a little ride. They drove to Staten Island and to the same house where the pastor had taken the woman three days earlier.
He helped the man climb the three flights of stairs to the woman's apartment, knocked on the door and he saw the greatest Christmas reunion he could ever imagine.
We Hardly Knew Ye - People We Lost in August, 2007
Oliver Hill, 100, American lawyer, lead attorney on the Brown v. Board of Education case.
Gato Del Sol, 28, American racehorse, won 1982 Kentucky Derby, euthanized.
Clarence "Tex" Walker, 61, (24 January 1946 – 8 August 2007) was a prominent rhythm and blues musician who was the lead singer with Bill Pinkney's Original Drifters and The Coasters. After touring Europe with Big Joe Turner, Walker appeared at the prestigious Bishopstock Blues Festival, before forming his own group in London, The Walker Street Blues Band, and recording "Blues in Black," which was released to critical acclaim in Britain. Walker died of a heart attack on August 8, 2007. He had the attack in the King's Arms Hotel at Woodstock, Oxfordshire and died four days later.
Henry Cabot Lodge Bohler, 82, American civil rights campaigner, member of Tuskegee Airmen, brain injuries following a fall.
Merv Griffin, 82, American talk show host, real estate tycoon, creator of Jeopardy! and Wheel of Fortune, prostate cancer.
Phil Rizzuto, 89, American baseball player, Hall of Fame inductee and sports broadcaster, pneumonia.
Brian "Crush" Adams, 44, American professional wrestler, accidental overdose of pain killersanti-depressants.
Maxwell Lemuel "Max" Roach, 83, (January 10, 1924 – August 16, 2007) was a bebop/hard bop percussionist, drummer, and composer. He worked with many of the greatest jazz musicians, including Dizzy Gillespie, Charlie Parker, Miles Davis, Duke Ellington, Charles Mingus, Sonny Rollins and Clifford Brown. Roach also led his own groups, and made numerous musical statements relating to the civil rights movement of African-Americans. He is generally considered to be one of the most important drummers in history.
John Blewett III, 33, American NASCAR driver, racing crash.
Max Hodge, 91, American television writer, creator of Mr. Freeze on the 1960s Batman series.
Eddie Griffin, 25, American former Seton Hall, Rockets and Timberwolves basketball player, car accident.
Jon Lucien, 65, American smooth jazz singer/songwriter, respiratory failure and complications of kidney surgery.
Michael Deaver, 69, American Deputy White House Chief of Staff (1981–1985), pancreatic cancer.
Leona Helmsley, 87 (July 4, 1920 – August 20, 2007) was a billionaire New York City hotel operator and real estate investor. She was a flamboyant personality and had a reputation for tyrannical behavior that earned her the nickname "Queen of Mean." The image of Helmsley was sealed when a former housekeeper testified that she heard Helmsley say: "We don't pay taxes. Only the little people pay taxes." She was convicted of federal income tax evasion and other crimes in 1989 and served 19 months in prison (and two more months in house arrest), after receiving an initial sentence of 16 years, heart failure.
Robert Symonds, 80, (December 1, 1926 – August 23, 2007) was an American actor. He was the associate director of the Repertory Theatre of Lincoln Center from 1965 through 1972, prostate cancer.
Aaron Russo, 64 (February 14, 1943 – August 24, 2007) was an American entertainment businessman, film maker, and libertarian political activist, cancer.
Arthur A. Jones, 80 (November 22, 1926 – August 28, 2007)was the founder of Nautilus, Inc. and MedX, Inc. and the inventor of the Nautilus exercise machines, including the Nautilus pullover, which was first sold in 1970. He was born in Arkansas, and grew up in Seminole, Oklahoma.
David Garcia, 63 (1944? - August 28, 2007) was a broadcast journalist for ABC News. Garcia had the distinction of becoming one of the first Hispanic news correspondents for a major American television network in the early 1970s, complications of a liver condition.
Richard Jewell, 44, American security guard wrongly accused of the Atlanta Olympics bombing, diabetes.
Gato Del Sol, 28, American racehorse, won 1982 Kentucky Derby, euthanized.
Clarence "Tex" Walker, 61, (24 January 1946 – 8 August 2007) was a prominent rhythm and blues musician who was the lead singer with Bill Pinkney's Original Drifters and The Coasters. After touring Europe with Big Joe Turner, Walker appeared at the prestigious Bishopstock Blues Festival, before forming his own group in London, The Walker Street Blues Band, and recording "Blues in Black," which was released to critical acclaim in Britain. Walker died of a heart attack on August 8, 2007. He had the attack in the King's Arms Hotel at Woodstock, Oxfordshire and died four days later.
Henry Cabot Lodge Bohler, 82, American civil rights campaigner, member of Tuskegee Airmen, brain injuries following a fall.
Merv Griffin, 82, American talk show host, real estate tycoon, creator of Jeopardy! and Wheel of Fortune, prostate cancer.
Phil Rizzuto, 89, American baseball player, Hall of Fame inductee and sports broadcaster, pneumonia.
Brian "Crush" Adams, 44, American professional wrestler, accidental overdose of pain killersanti-depressants.
Maxwell Lemuel "Max" Roach, 83, (January 10, 1924 – August 16, 2007) was a bebop/hard bop percussionist, drummer, and composer. He worked with many of the greatest jazz musicians, including Dizzy Gillespie, Charlie Parker, Miles Davis, Duke Ellington, Charles Mingus, Sonny Rollins and Clifford Brown. Roach also led his own groups, and made numerous musical statements relating to the civil rights movement of African-Americans. He is generally considered to be one of the most important drummers in history.
John Blewett III, 33, American NASCAR driver, racing crash.
Max Hodge, 91, American television writer, creator of Mr. Freeze on the 1960s Batman series.
Eddie Griffin, 25, American former Seton Hall, Rockets and Timberwolves basketball player, car accident.
Jon Lucien, 65, American smooth jazz singer/songwriter, respiratory failure and complications of kidney surgery.
Michael Deaver, 69, American Deputy White House Chief of Staff (1981–1985), pancreatic cancer.
Leona Helmsley, 87 (July 4, 1920 – August 20, 2007) was a billionaire New York City hotel operator and real estate investor. She was a flamboyant personality and had a reputation for tyrannical behavior that earned her the nickname "Queen of Mean." The image of Helmsley was sealed when a former housekeeper testified that she heard Helmsley say: "We don't pay taxes. Only the little people pay taxes." She was convicted of federal income tax evasion and other crimes in 1989 and served 19 months in prison (and two more months in house arrest), after receiving an initial sentence of 16 years, heart failure.
Robert Symonds, 80, (December 1, 1926 – August 23, 2007) was an American actor. He was the associate director of the Repertory Theatre of Lincoln Center from 1965 through 1972, prostate cancer.
Aaron Russo, 64 (February 14, 1943 – August 24, 2007) was an American entertainment businessman, film maker, and libertarian political activist, cancer.
Arthur A. Jones, 80 (November 22, 1926 – August 28, 2007)was the founder of Nautilus, Inc. and MedX, Inc. and the inventor of the Nautilus exercise machines, including the Nautilus pullover, which was first sold in 1970. He was born in Arkansas, and grew up in Seminole, Oklahoma.
David Garcia, 63 (1944? - August 28, 2007) was a broadcast journalist for ABC News. Garcia had the distinction of becoming one of the first Hispanic news correspondents for a major American television network in the early 1970s, complications of a liver condition.
Richard Jewell, 44, American security guard wrongly accused of the Atlanta Olympics bombing, diabetes.
Word of the Day
pari passu \PAIR-ee-PASS-oo; PAIR-ih-PASS-oo\, adverb:
At an equal pace or rate.
Expand the state and [its] destructive capacity necessarily expands too, pari passu.
-- Paul Johnson, Modern Times: The World From the Twenties to the Eighties
Independent hedge funds can sell their holdings in a stock all at once, but if a hedge fund is part of a mutual fund company, it generally must sell pari passu . . . with the company's mutual funds that hold the same stock, constraining flexibility.
-- Geraldine Fabrikant, "Should You Bristle at These Hedges?", New York Times, November 8, 1998
Pari passu literally means "with equal step," from Latin pari, ablative of par, "equal" + passu, ablative of passus, "step."
Sunday, December 23, 2007
'Grandma' got run over by the ratings, dear
Playing the right Christmas song isn't just a matter of whether you'll tick off Aunt Harriet or force Grandpa to cover his ears and flee into the snow. For radio stations that broadcast wall-to-wall holiday tunes this time of year -- and there are 366 such stations in the United States -- the playlist is a major financial decision. Which is why radio stations pay attention to surveys such as the ones conducted this year by two media research companies. Bottom line: Avoid "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer" at all costs.
Making a list ...
Edison Media Research and Pinnacle Media Worldwide asked people to rate Christmas-themed tunes. Edison's results:
LOVED
1. Nat King Cole's "The Christmas Song" (You know -- "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire ...")
2. Bing Crosby's "White Christmas"
3. Johnny Mathis' "Do You Hear What I Hear"
4. Burl Ives' "A Holly Jolly Christmas"
5. Harry Simeone Chorale's "Little Drummer Boy"
HATED
1. The Singing Dogs' "Jingle Bells" (This 1955 Danish record, re-edited and rereleased in 1970, consists of random barks put together in a rendition of the familiar tune.)
2. Cartman's "O Holy Night" (the familiar song as butchered by the cartoon character from Comedy Central's "South Park," voiced by Trey Parker)
3. Elmo & Patsy's "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer"
4. The Jackson 5's "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town"
5. Barbra Streisand's "Jingle Bells?"
Checking it twice
The second research firm, Pinnacle, divided its survey into categories:
* Adult contemporary listeners rated Brenda Lee's "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree" No. 1. They didn't care for NewSong's "The Christmas Shoes."
* Adult Top 40 fans went for Bobby Helms' "Jingle Bell Rock." Downgraded: The Waitresses' "Christmas Wrapping."
* Hip-hop/R&B fans liked the Jackson 5's "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town" though Edison respondents loathed it. Among the songs faring poorly with hip-hop fans was James Brown's "Santa Go Straight to the Ghetto."
* Country listeners ranked Ives' "A Holly Jolly Christmas" at No. 1. Montgomery Gentry's "Merry Christmas From the Family" was disowned.
* Smooth jazz fans backed "The Christmas Song" by Chicago's own Nat King Cole. Less liked was "Happy Christmas" by Mindi Abair.
Gray Christmas
Oldies ruled in the ratings. Mariah Carey's "All I Want for Christmas Is You" (1994) was an exception, placing sixth on Pinnacle's adult contemporary list. The most recent song well-loved in Edison's survey was 36 years old: "Happy Xmas (War Is Over)" by John Lennon and Yoko Ono.
What to do about 'Grandma'?
"Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer" was widely disliked, but it also was loved by many others, with very little middle ground. Elmo Shropshire, 71, half of the duo Elmo & Patsy, claims Patsy, his ex-wife, never sang on the record. He says the song has sold "well over" 10 million copies since San Francisco radio station KSFO first aired it 28 years ago. Shropshire told The Washington Post's Paul Farhi: "A lot of younger people say it's not really Christmas until they hear it."
-- Sources: The Washington Post, edisonresearch.com, pinnaclemediaworldwide.com
Making a list ...
Edison Media Research and Pinnacle Media Worldwide asked people to rate Christmas-themed tunes. Edison's results:
LOVED
1. Nat King Cole's "The Christmas Song" (You know -- "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire ...")
2. Bing Crosby's "White Christmas"
3. Johnny Mathis' "Do You Hear What I Hear"
4. Burl Ives' "A Holly Jolly Christmas"
5. Harry Simeone Chorale's "Little Drummer Boy"
HATED
1. The Singing Dogs' "Jingle Bells" (This 1955 Danish record, re-edited and rereleased in 1970, consists of random barks put together in a rendition of the familiar tune.)
2. Cartman's "O Holy Night" (the familiar song as butchered by the cartoon character from Comedy Central's "South Park," voiced by Trey Parker)
3. Elmo & Patsy's "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer"
4. The Jackson 5's "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town"
5. Barbra Streisand's "Jingle Bells?"
Checking it twice
The second research firm, Pinnacle, divided its survey into categories:
* Adult contemporary listeners rated Brenda Lee's "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree" No. 1. They didn't care for NewSong's "The Christmas Shoes."
* Adult Top 40 fans went for Bobby Helms' "Jingle Bell Rock." Downgraded: The Waitresses' "Christmas Wrapping."
* Hip-hop/R&B fans liked the Jackson 5's "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town" though Edison respondents loathed it. Among the songs faring poorly with hip-hop fans was James Brown's "Santa Go Straight to the Ghetto."
* Country listeners ranked Ives' "A Holly Jolly Christmas" at No. 1. Montgomery Gentry's "Merry Christmas From the Family" was disowned.
* Smooth jazz fans backed "The Christmas Song" by Chicago's own Nat King Cole. Less liked was "Happy Christmas" by Mindi Abair.
Gray Christmas
Oldies ruled in the ratings. Mariah Carey's "All I Want for Christmas Is You" (1994) was an exception, placing sixth on Pinnacle's adult contemporary list. The most recent song well-loved in Edison's survey was 36 years old: "Happy Xmas (War Is Over)" by John Lennon and Yoko Ono.
What to do about 'Grandma'?
"Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer" was widely disliked, but it also was loved by many others, with very little middle ground. Elmo Shropshire, 71, half of the duo Elmo & Patsy, claims Patsy, his ex-wife, never sang on the record. He says the song has sold "well over" 10 million copies since San Francisco radio station KSFO first aired it 28 years ago. Shropshire told The Washington Post's Paul Farhi: "A lot of younger people say it's not really Christmas until they hear it."
-- Sources: The Washington Post, edisonresearch.com, pinnaclemediaworldwide.com
Christmas Eve
Years ago, I drove a cab for a living. It was a cowboy's life, a life for someone who wanted no boss. What I didn't realize was that it was also a ministry. Because I drove the night shift, my cab became a moving confessional. Passengers climbed in, sat behind me in total anonymity, and told me about their lives. I encountered people whose lives amazed me, ennobled me, made me laugh and weep.
But none touched me more than a woman I picked up very late Christmas Eve. I responded to a call from a small brick four-plex in a quiet part of town. When I arrived at 2:30 a.m., the building was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window. Under these circumstances, many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a minute, then drive away. But I had seen too many poor people who depended on taxis as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door. This passenger might be someone who needed my assistance, I reasoned to myself. So I walked to the door and knocked.
"Just a minute," answered a frail, elderly voice.
After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 80s stood before me, dressed like somebody out of a 1940's movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. "Would you carry my bag out to the car?" she said.
I took the suitcase to the cab, and then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking me for my kindness. "It's nothing," I told her. "I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated."
"Oh, you're such a good boy," she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, then asked, "Could you drive through downtown?"
"It's not the shortest way," I answered quickly. "Oh, I don't mind," she said. "I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice." I looked in the rearview mirror. Her eyes were glistening.
"I don't have any family left," she continued. "The doctor says I don't have very long." I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. "What route would you like me to take?" I asked.
For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl. Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.
As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, "I'm tired. Let's go now."
We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home. Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were attentive, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her. I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.
"How much do I owe you?" she asked, reaching into her purse. "Nothing," I said.
"You have to make a living," she answered. "There are other passengers," I responded.
Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly. "You gave an old woman a little moment of joy," she said. "Thank you, Dear."
I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life. I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly, lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?
On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life. We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware--beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.
But none touched me more than a woman I picked up very late Christmas Eve. I responded to a call from a small brick four-plex in a quiet part of town. When I arrived at 2:30 a.m., the building was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window. Under these circumstances, many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a minute, then drive away. But I had seen too many poor people who depended on taxis as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door. This passenger might be someone who needed my assistance, I reasoned to myself. So I walked to the door and knocked.
"Just a minute," answered a frail, elderly voice.
After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 80s stood before me, dressed like somebody out of a 1940's movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. "Would you carry my bag out to the car?" she said.
I took the suitcase to the cab, and then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking me for my kindness. "It's nothing," I told her. "I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated."
"Oh, you're such a good boy," she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, then asked, "Could you drive through downtown?"
"It's not the shortest way," I answered quickly. "Oh, I don't mind," she said. "I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice." I looked in the rearview mirror. Her eyes were glistening.
"I don't have any family left," she continued. "The doctor says I don't have very long." I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. "What route would you like me to take?" I asked.
For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl. Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.
As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, "I'm tired. Let's go now."
We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home. Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were attentive, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her. I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.
"How much do I owe you?" she asked, reaching into her purse. "Nothing," I said.
"You have to make a living," she answered. "There are other passengers," I responded.
Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly. "You gave an old woman a little moment of joy," she said. "Thank you, Dear."
I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life. I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly, lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?
On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life. We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware--beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.
We Hardly Knew Ye - People We Lost in July, 2007
Bill Pinkneyk, 81 (August 15, 1925 – July 4, 2007) was an American performer and singer. Pinkney is often incorrectly said to be the last surviving original member of The Drifters, who achieved international fame with numerous hit records. This is technically untrue, as he was not a member of the original lineup of the group. He did, however, join the group at an early stage, before it achieved great fame. He was chiefly responsible for its sound throughout the decades. The Drifters have had a strong influence on soul, rhythm and blues, and rock and roll music, probable heart attack.
Kerwin Mathews, 81 (January 8, 1926 – July 5, 2007) was an American actor. He is best known for playing Sinbad in the 1958 Ray Harryhausen stop-motion animation feature The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad, where he engaged in a sword fight with animated skeletons.
Charles Gerstle Levison - better known as Charles Lane, 102 (January 26, 1905 - July 9, 2007)[1] was an American character actor seen in many movies and TV shows, and at the time of his death was the oldest living American actor.[2] Lane appeared in many Frank Capra films, including Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, Arsenic and Old Lace and It's a Wonderful Life.
Rod Lauren, 67, (March 20, 1940 – July 11, 2007) was an American actor and singer.
As an actor, he worked mostly in television, appearing in single episodes of Alfred Hitchcock Presents and Gomer Pyle, U.S.M.C. amongst others during the 1960s. Lauren's most notable film is The Crawling Hand (1963) which achieved latter-day notoriety when it was featured on Mystery Science Theater 3000. As a singer, Lauren is a one-hit wonder who hit #31 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart with the song "If I Had a Girl" in 1960 and performed twice on The Ed Sullivan Show, suicide by jumping.
Ronald Norman Miller, 74, (c. 1933 - July 23, 2007[1]) was an American popular songwriter ("Touch Me in the Morning", "For Once in My Life")and record producer, who attained many Top 10 hits with ballads written for Motown artists in the 1960s and 1970s, cardiac arrest.
Jesse Marunde, 27, (September 14, 1979 - July 25, 2007) was an American strongman athlete who placed second in the 2005 World's Strongest Man competition, heart attack.
Jake until his retirement because of cancer in , 12, (1995 – July 25, 2007) was a well known American black labrador who served as a search and rescue dog following the September 11 attacks and Hurricane Katrina. Jake served as a rescue dog from 19972006.George Edward "Skip" Prosser, 56, (November 3, 1950 - July 26, 2007) was an American college basketball coach who was head basketball coach at Wake Forest University at the time of his death. He was the only coach in NCAA history to take three separate schools to the NCAA Tournament in his first year coaching the teams. In 21 years as a collegiate coach, he made 18 postseason appearances, heart attack.
William Ernest "Bill" Walsh head , 75, (November 30, 1931 – July 30, 2007) was an Americanfootball coach of the San Francisco 49ers and Stanford University, and popularized the West Coast Offense. Walsh went 102-63-1 with the 49ers, winning ten of his fourteen postseason games along with six division titles, three NFC Championship titles, and three Super Bowls. He was named the NFL's coach of the year in 1981 and 1984, leukemia.
Word of the Day
soporific \sop-uh-RIF-ik; soh-puh-\, adjective:
1. Causing sleep; tending to cause sleep.
2. Of, relating to, or characterized by sleepiness or lethargy.
3. A medicine, drug, plant, or other agent that has the quality of inducing sleep; a narcotic.
Hamilton's voice droned on, hypnotic, soporific, the gloom beyond the windows like the backdrop of a waking dream.
-- T. Coraghessan Boyle, Riven Rock
They were almost an hour behind in their daily schedule, and both women looked tired after a soporific afternoon of three executive meetings.
-- Gabriel Garcia Marquez, News of a Kidnapping
Happily, these three lullaby books offer the sort of comforting bedtime soporific that has delivered generations of children, young and older, into deep, safe slumber.
-- Lisa Shea, New York Times, January 30, 1994
Soporific is from French soporifique, from Latin sopor, "a heavy sleep" + -ficus, "-fic," from facere, "to make."
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