Last year caroling for brandy was put on hiatus because of my kidney transplant surgery. But this year the tradition resumed on Friday, December 23, 7 p.m. We had seven carolers and three passersby who joined us--a first.
Othman had just finished his catering job, so he didn't take the time to go home and change but came in his tuxedo. Handsome as usual but a bit chilly, so I lent him a coat. I told him he was the Lebanese Oscar Wilde. He chuckled and said, "Oh, thanks, Heidi, now people have two reasons to hate me--Arab and gay." I reminded him that Wilde was an engaging personality as he is, and very intelligent too. Gay was certainly not his sole attribute.
Every year the energy is different because we've had as few as three carolers and as many as 10. Also, we go to different houses every year. Always the houses of strangers, unlike every other caroling group I've ever been in that just wants to carol on the doorsteps of people they know. What fun is that? One of the interesting things about our caroling for brandy is that we never know what lurks behind these strangers' doors. Perhaps wonder and awe. Perhaps anger. Perhaps indifference. One never knows.
Though we did receive beer at one house and spiced rum at another, drinking was not the main event. Three of us asked for water instead. Except for one guy who told us to go away and a woman who asked us to leave because she was putting her kids to bed, everyone else was positively thrilled to see us. It was downright magical for many of our listeners. That's such a wonderful feeling, going about and spreading Christmas cheer to unsuspecting strangers.
One groovy redhead in a metallic Egyptian princess mini-skirt invited us upstairs to her apartment. A small gathering was underway, complete with a life-sized manager against one wall. We attempted to place Rasputin in Baby Jesus' crib with the woman's cute, elfin daughter, but he wanted none of that.
I had two "Stille Nacht" solos. "Silent Night" in German. I am forever asking Othman to learn "Silent Night" in Arabic, but so far no luck. And Aaron and some of his buddies could surely do it in Spanish, but they don't.
Next year, folks, listen to your inner voice. Don't follow the herd. Ask everyone you know not to buy you gifts and let them know they're not getting gifts from you. Instead ask them to go caroling at the doors of strangers. Or come up with a loving, giving idea of your own. You might just begin to really enjoy the season.
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