After much cajoling, I succeeded in getting a caroling party assembled--the dear son, his friends Tyler and Bryant, and myself. After a few photos around our Christmas tree--a sprig of evergreen rising triumphantly from a vase--and a little bit of alcohol at home, we headed out to spread good cheer.
Our first stop was Leonard's apartment. His Christmas lights were on, but he didn't answer the door. Next up, was the mechanic in the apartment below the laundry room. He offered us ten bucks before we even opened our mouths, but I refused. But when we sang our brandy verse of "We Wish You a Merry Christmas," he poured Malibu coconut-flavored rum into our mugs.
We proceeded down Molino Avenue to the homes of strangers. Some offered fudge and cookies. Others gave us beers. Two cute girls in a lovely craftsman-style house brought out a bottle of red wine that one of them had recently purchased in Spain. A friend of a friend in an apartment that looked like it had been the site of many a holiday party gave us vodka. Another family served Jim Beam.
A middle-aged couple and their friend joined us in "Silent Night" and even humored me by listening to my solo of "Stille Nacht." Then they gave us hugs! Yes, hugs between strangers! Does it get any better!
At Portfolio, the home of snobby baristas, we sang to anyone who would raise his gaze from his laptop screen. The ennui of the bored youth behind the counter persisted, but one patron said into her cell phone, "I'll have to call you back. There are carolers here." She hung up and joined in for a few verses. Outside we met with a merrier crowd. One young gal, who gave us all hugs when I told her of the hugs we had previously received, said of my photo-taking: "I know that will end up on a blog somewhere." And indeed it has.
One boy, maybe four years old, was our biggest fan. He stood by the door, dumbstruck, awestruck, bright-eyed, smiling. Decades from now, he will remember that night like a dim vision of Santa on the rooftop or sleigh bells as he drifts off to sleep.
As we walked and encountered pedestrians, we circled them and filled them with good cheer as well.
And lest I forget the couple with the Beemer parked out front. The woman offered us whiskey before we even asked, and when her husband/boyfriend said they had been at a party the night before and no one knew the words to an old carol, I immediately jumped in with "Here We Go A-Wassailing." That had been the song he had wanted to sing! And so the six of us sang, "We are not daily beggars/That beg from door to door/But we are neighbors' children/Who you have seen before/Love and joy come to you/And to you your wassail too/May God bless you and send you a happy new year/May God send you a happy new year."
Definitely a Christmas baby was conceived at that house last night. I could just image the woman saying, "Oh, honey, wasn't that magical!" And so would begin some magic of their own.
