(all photos taken with my Blackberry Curve this morning)

One of the things I’ve always enjoyed doing is confronting nature’s elements head-on. It’s one of the quickest ways to feel as alive as I possibly can.

Thoreau put it this way in “Where I Lived, and What I Lived For” in Walden:

I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion.

This morning, life indeed proved mean, and I got the whole and genuine meanness of it.

Trina, my ever-adventurer friend, and I decided a few days ago it would be a good idea to go for an early-morning bike ride on the NCR Trail. For those of you who don’t know, this is one of those Rails to Trails projects, where old railroad tracks are pulled up and the existing path is converted to a walking/biking trail. The NCR Trail currently runs from Cockeysville, MD to the Pennsylvania line (about 20 miles), where it then turns into the York County Heritage Trail. It then continues north for another 21 miles to York, PA. The incline gradation ranges from 1% to 3%, so it’s a very easy ride. Easy, that is, in normal weather conditions.

Trina wanted to head out at 5:30, as she needed to be off-trail by 8 a.m. I did the math at what time I’d have to get up to meet her there at that time (we were starting at Monkton Station, nearly 25 minutes away), and I pleaded for a 6 a.m. start. We agreed that if we prepped well enough and got right on the trail when we arrived, we could bump it up to 6.

That still meant at least an hour of darkness before sunrise, and taping flashlights to our handlebars last time didn’t exactly work out like we had planned. So, we found some good bike headlights at REI for just $20. With a little bit of tweaking and $6 in bills to hold it securely in place around the bar, I found the light to be just exactly perfect for the ride.

The temperature was 17 degrees when we hit the trail a little after 6:15, and within the first mile, we hit serious patches of ice. We were not yet in any kind of groove, so it was tough navigating through this first icy stretch. By the time we hit the next patch, we were “warmed” up (there was no warming to speak of, but we had acclimated ourselves to the conditions), and we had better control of our bikes. It suddenly felt like we were in some kind of video game, where we needed to stay in the narrow paths of dry soil to stay on our bikes. One sudden move to the left or the right, and we’d lose control immediately.

This was especially hard to do in the dark. There were additional obstacles and challenges we faced, including fallen branches on the trail that our headlights couldn’t pick up until they were just a few feet away. To complicate matters even more, there were low-lying branches that were out of the headlight’s reach. A quick call to duck was all we were able to give each other. Some we missed, and some we didn’t.

When we reached the 4-mile point, we felt numb but pretty good. We decided to push on for another two miles, but almost immediately we hit a serious stretch of ice that was impassable. We figured we had reached our mid-way point and decided to turn around. I stopped to take a drink from my water bottle, which I had filled with tap water before we left.

No such luck. It was now a bottle of ice.

By this time, the sun had started to rise, and we were able to turn out our headlights and enjoy some of the sights along the trail (not to mention the low-lying branches!). The greatest surprise, by far, were the icicles on the rocks by the trail.

I wish we had had more time to really explore, but we still had miles to go, and by this time, we had lost all feeling in our toes and fingers. Besides, every time we stopped for pictures, it made it that much harder to get back into that cycling groove.

We made it back to Monkton with a few minutes to spare (and — no surprise — our SUVs were still the only vehicles in the lot), and we both felt euphoric that we had tackled the trail despite the bitter temperatures.

I haven’t lost that euphoria, even in the warmth of my home hours later. There’s just something about facing nature in her finest hour and taking in all she has to offer. It provides a good-natured, healthy perspective to the rest of your life, for living is so dear, and, as Thoreau suggests, there is much to learn when we live it fully.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Peace on Earth, can it be
Years from now, perhaps we’ll see
See the day of glory
See the day, when men of good will
Live in peace, live in peace again

For me, it was never a question that this song was going to place first in the countdown. For many years, I have held this song in the highest esteem for its simple message that transcends the very things that divide us by our different generations. Peace is something we all wish for, and it is something that we hope someday is achieved throughout the world.

It starts much smaller, though. It starts with me. It starts with you.

Just yesterday, I ordered a Christmas Blend coffee from Starbucks, and on the cup were two messages:

• I wish Grown-Ups Could Remember Being Kids
• I Wish Everyone Could See How Much We All Have In Common

I do not know how to put it more simply.

Peace on Earth, can it be
Every child must be made aware
Every child must be made to care
Care enough for his fellow man
To give all the love that he can

There’s something that happens to us when we get older. We get caught up in the game of life without even knowing it, and we suddenly get hardened by the knocks that do their best to bring us down. We become focused more on ourselves than we do others. We forget to smile, to love, to offer a little kindness without solicitation.

We need to do better than that.

Maybe today’s younger generations need to write themselves a note about how they feel about peace, and how they hope it will be a reality when they grow up. They should seal the envelope and write “To Be Opened in 2025.” Maybe that reminder will help them soften a bit, awake them from the slumber of the machine, and make peace and kindness the center of their lives once again.

During the height of the shopping frenzy yesterday, I was driving along York Road, and a gentleman was trying to merge onto the street. I slowed down, flashed my lights, and waved for him to go ahead of me. Before he could thank me, his face registered more shock than gratitude. I genuinely believe that he thought he was going to be waiting a while for somebody to let him in.

It took less than 10 seconds for me to slow down, let him in, and resume moving along the road. I was surprised I did not get honked at by the “inconvenienced” drivers behind me.

Ten seconds. Maybe that’s all it took for him to believe kindness still existed. Maybe he then passed it along to somebody else. That’s the way it’s supposed to work, at least.

I pray my wish will come true
For my child and your child too
He’ll see the day of glory
See the day when men of good will
Live in peace, live in peace again

Peace on Earth, can it be
Can it be

I believe it can. Truly. With all of my heart. For you, for me, for all of us, in all ways.

I hope you enjoyed the countdown as much as I did in sharing it with you. May each of you have a blessed Christmas, and let’s all do our best to keep Peace and Love in our hearts, in all that we do. Not just during this time of year, but throughout the weeks and months that follow.

God bless, with love and peace,

Rus

Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht,
Alles schläft; einsam wacht
Nur das traute hochheilige Paar.
Holder Knabe im lockigen Haar,
Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh!
Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh!

In any language, Silent Night is probably the most recognized Christmas song ever performed. And in nearly every case, it is recognized for its melodic solemnity in the holiness of the moment of Christ’s birth.

Stille Nacht was first performed 191 years ago tonight in the Church of St. Nicholas in Oberndorf, Austria. Two years earlier, in 1816, the lyrics were written by the Austrian priest Josef Mohr, and the melody was composed the day of the first performance by the Austrian Headmaster Franz Xaver Gruber, reportedly for the guitar. Since then, Silent Night has been translated into 44 different languages and recorded by over 300 performers or artists. To this day, it stands as one of the most spiritual and holy of Christmas carols to be played on Christmas eve and early Christmas morning.

Oíche Chiúin, oíche Mhic Dé,
Cách na suan go héiri an lae.
Dís is dílse ag faire le spéis.
Glór binn aingeal le clos insan aer.
Críost ag teacht ar an saol.
Críost ag teacht ar an saol.

For me, this song will forever take me back to the second Christmas after my father died, and I spent Christmas Eve with my mother to help her through the loneliness of those most solemn moments. We attended a Christmas Eve church service, went to a traditional gathering of friends, and then went home. Mom had this little tape player, and she played a Christmas Classics tape with various carols and gospels, including Silent Night. We didn’t speak much as the music played, but hours later, in the silence of the night, I heard her crying.

When we awoke Christmas morning, she was different. There was an energy to her that I had not seen since Dad’s passing, yet she didn’t share anything with me about why she was feeling this way. We exchanged our Christmas gifts, had breakfast with my Brother and his family, and I went back to my cabin in southern Maryland.

It wasn’t until Christmas Eve, the following year, that Mom shared with me what had happened that night. She told me that she had been visited by an Angel, and that Dad was there as well. Dad told her that he would always be with her, and she should live her life fully. They would be reunited again soon.

Certainly, a lot had changed for Mom in the year between those two Christmas eves. She regained her confidence, and she met a gentleman that would end up staying with her for the next fifteen years — right up to the night she died.

I know Mom was afraid at first to tell me that she had seen my father with an angel that night, but I never doubted her for a moment. To this day, I believe that Dad did visit her, and he and the angel set her free to live her life with God’s grace and blessings. I have no doubt that, when she lay dying in May of 2007, she was visited again, and when she passed away, was carried to heaven in their hands.

It doesn’t matter which version I hear. Whether it is sung in German by the St. Thomas Boys’ Choir, in Irish by Enya, or in English by Stevie Nicks and Robbie Nevil, Silent Night will always be much more than a beautiful Christmas carol. It will forever be laced with the memories of my mother’s reunion with Dad on the holiest of nights, when Christ was born.

Silent night, holy night
All is calm, all is bright
Round yon Virgin Mother and Child
Holy Infant so tender and mild
Sleep in heavenly peace
Sleep in heavenly peaceSilent night, holy night!
Shepherds quake at the sight
Glories stream from heaven afar
Heavenly hosts sing Alleluia!
Christ, the Saviour is born
Christ, the Saviour is born

Silent night, holy night
Son of God, love’s pure light
Radiant beams from Thy holy face
With the dawn of redeeming grace
Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth
Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth

Sometimes, a song moves you so much that words seem to get in the way of its powerful meaning. O Holy Night, which has been sung beautifully by countless artists and choirs, is one of those songs. In fact, when I first created the Christmas Countdown during Thanksgiving weekend, I had it listed as my number two choice. It was only this morning that I switched numbers 3 and 2, particularly for historical purposes. (More on that tomorrow–Christmas Eve!)

Songs 3 and 2, though, are so very similar in the memories they stir of evenings with my mother and father when I was young, when I lived in my cabins when I was a bit older, and now when we drive home from Christmas Eve gatherings with friends and their families. It reminds me of Christmas Eve services held at midnight, both those that I have attended in person and those that have been broadcast on television as Amy and I finish our last-minute wrapping of gifts for our children. O Holy Night stills my world and aligns within me the spiritual meaning of Christmas with all things pure. It is one of the holiest songs in my life.

Perhaps it is the universal stillness that comes after all the shopping is done, where nothing more can be bought; we are given the opportunity to discard the hustle and bustle of the shopping frenzy and turn our thoughts to the stillness of the night, of the promise of a celebratory dawn, a rejoicing of life and love in ways that no material present can ever provide us.

Enjoy this performance of O Holy Night. Please feel free to share your favorite version…there are so many!

Everything — every note, every word, every second of this song fills me with strength, reflection, and a certain faith in the intangible. This is what I believe in. This is what I need in my life, every day, to keep my focus of what my existence on this earth is all about.

I’ve already told you about the Christian rebirth that I experienced in July 1988, and I’ve touched on the topic of spiritual wavering several other times in the countdown. It has become a part of who I am to question this faith from time to time. Amy Grant’s song, however, that shares the Nativity from Mary’s perspective, shifts the selfish focus on me to the selfless and ever-faithful courage of Mary.

When I listen to this song or re-read the lyrics, I find it pretty easy to put any one of our journeys in the same situation. We often find ourselves alone, frightened, and in the dark. Everywhere we turn seems to be a dead-end. Our friends cannot be found or have turned on us, and the tangible things that we have foolishly relied on for strength no longer bring us the comfort (no matter how false and horrible that comfort might have been) we are seeking.

It is through Mary’s strength, her faith in God, that she was able to carry on. There were no tangibles to rely on, only her belief in a breath from heaven to lead her along the way.

If we’ve forgotten how to do it, if we have somehow lost our way, we can find it once again now during this most holy of seasons. At Christmastime, we are given the stories of faith, of miracles, of strength, of perseverance to guide us along our journey, but only if we take the time to stop for a few moments and allow the busy, hectic time of Christmas shopping and preparations to settle like swirling grains of sand in purified waters.

And when they do settle, we are left with the clarity to see all things, believe all things that define our place on this earth.

Take those few moments. Listen to Amy Grant share Mary’s story. Let the grains settle and the glory of clarity shine through you. These are tough days for so many, and regardless of your spiritual foundation, there is great comfort that can come from just taking the time to calm the crazy waters of the more material and mechanistic aspects of the holidays.

Five minutes and twenty-nine seconds. Press play, and let Amy (and the wonderful video) help you settle the swirling grains. . . .

I have traveled many moonless nights,
Cold and weary with a babe inside,
And I wonder what I’ve done.
Holy father you have come,
And chosen me now to carry your son.

I am waiting in a silent prayer.
I am frightened by the load I bear.
In a world as cold as stone,
Must I walk this path alone?
Be with me now.
Be with me now.

Breath of heaven,
Hold me together,
Be forever near me,
Breath of heaven.
Breath of heaven,
Lighten my darkness,
Pour over me your holiness,
For you are holy.
Breath of heaven.

Do you wonder as you watch my face,
If a wiser one should have had my place,
But I offer all I am
For the mercy of your plan.
Help me be strong.
Help me be.
Help me.

Breath of heaven,
Hold me together,
Be forever near me,
Breath of heaven.
Breath of heaven,
Lighten my darkness,
Pour over me your holiness,
For you are holy.

Breath of heaven,
Hold me together,
Be forever near me,
Breath of heaven.
Breath of heaven,
Lighten my darkness,
Pour over me your holiness,
For you are holy.
Breath of heaven.
Breath of heaven.
Breath of heaven

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.

I was raised on Snoopy, Linus, Woodstock, and all the others in the Peanuts gang, and this comic strip had more of an impact on my childhood than any other cartoon or cartoon character that has ever existed. While many of my friends were caught up in their dreamworlds of Speed Racer, The Fantastic Four, or even The Archies or Scooby Doo, I was diligently working on my artistic recreations of the Peanuts characters. These guys were real to me. I could identify with Charlie Brown’s woes, Lucy’s big-sister hold over Linus (not to mention his philosophic outlook on life), and Peppermint Patty’s more adventurous lifestyle. It was Snoopy, though, who represented a love-for-life approach in everything he did that gave me a happy outlook on my own life.

And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.

I literally grew up watching A Charlie Brown Christmas since I was a baby. It was released the year I was born, 1965. In this short episode was everything anybody ever needed to know about Christmas — spending time with friends. . . .

And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.

Sharing gifts with loved ones. . .

For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.

And boldly enough, the origins of the birth of Christ.

And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.

It’s hard to believe that a single cartoon could have such a profound influence on anybody. Yet, 44 years later, A Charlie Brown Christmas is still a holiday classic, despite ABC’s butchering of the show just two weeks ago to make time for Disney’s Prep & Landing. It is reassuring that they didn’t touch Linus’ response to Charlie Brown (below) when he asks “Isn’t there anyone who knows what Christmas is all about?”

And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.

Charles M. Schulz, Peanuts creator and illustrator, was adamant that Linus’ reading of Luke from the King James Bible stay in the final version of the story, exclaiming, “If we don’t tell the true meaning of Christmas, who will?” Schulz, in the final minutes of the show, marries the reading of the verses from Chapter 2 of Luke with a few more words of Linus’ wisdom: Love is a very powerful thing, and sometimes, all we need to do is share it to bring out the beauty in all things, even Charlie Brown Christmas trees.

So many life lessons in such a simple Christmas TV special (which, ironically enough, was originally filled with many blatant commercial pitches for its number one sponsor, Coca-Cola…Talk about the commercialization of Christmas!).

This song, “Christmas Time Is Here,” helps me keep that true meaning close to me. The innocence in the voices, the simplicity in Guaraldi’s piano playing, the classic characters of Snoopy, Charlie Brown, Linus, Lucy and all the others singing together in the snow — all of it shields me from the commercial and secular celebrations of Christmas and finds deep within me the true meaning of Christmas.

May the voices of innocence remind us all that, indeed, Christmas Time Is Here, and there is much to celebrate.

Oh, the words of hope for peace, if you want it. John & Yoko, with the Harlem Community Choir, released this single in December 1971 in protest of the Vietnam War. Two years earlier, they rented billboards around the war stating “WAR IS OVER (if you want it),” which is sung by the Harlem choir throughout most of the song.

Amazing how, 40 years later after they posted their words of peace around the world, we continue to pray for the same thing today.

Lennon’s death in 1980 triggered this song’s rebirth, and it’s been a popular holiday classic ever since. My memories of this song, as I’ve mentioned elsewhere in previous posts, are founded in Christmas 1981, when performing shows around the Baltimore area for hospitals, children centers, and nursing homes.

Today, from Yoko and John’s Christmas whispers to their children Kyoko and Julian to the final notes of the Harlem Choir 3 minutes later, this song still evokes strong emotions and a belief that Peace is Possible.

One of the things I struggle with this time of year is the senseless disregard for kindness and love. The hectic shopping, the careless driving, and the overall frantic lifestyle of countless shoppers who put themselves and their missions above all other things (including the safety of the lives of others) saddens me greatly. This year, a day has not gone by during the countdown where my life was not put in danger by a careless driver who put himself above all others, forcing me and many other drivers to swerve, slam on our breaks, or pray through clenched teeth as we gripped the wheel tight.

Much like we continue to wish that such individuals would be more respectful to others, we keep asking for a return to peace, that such a way of life is possible. I propose that we begin with peace instead of return to it. Maybe if we make the conscious decision to be peaceful when we wake, all of our actions and interactions will begin with peace.

Think how profoundly that would change our lives. For you and for me.

If you live in Baltimore or anywhere else in the state of Maryland, you missed a day of shopping yesterday with all of the stores shut down because of the snow storm. The next four days might be filled with a greater anxiety and rush to “get things done” before Christmas Eve on Thursday. Those who were crazy and disrespectful these last few weeks will most likely be even more frantic, putting our lives — and the lives of our children — at great risk.

Do your part. Begin with Peace. End the Christmas Rush War with a determination to keep in focus the true meaning of the holiday season. Lennon tells us that War is Over if we want it.

Yes, John. I want it. May peace reign here in Baltimore and all over the world.

I hope you want it too. Make the decision, and let it begin with You!

The snowfall we are receiving is quite timely, as George Winston’s Peace captures the beauty and absolute solitude of a newfallen snow.

Whenever I try to explain George Winston’s music to friends who have never heard him play, I begin by describing the basic idea that a quarter note is made up of many smaller notes. Most musicians perfect the art of playing those smaller notes quickly, using countless eighth and sixteenth notes to tell a story in music. Winston does just the opposite. He uses the full space of a quarter note to play that sixteenth note with a surgeon’s precision — not for the sake of playing that particular note, but for the emphasis of the silence that falls before and after it within that quarter note.

Hard to explain. I guess to put it as plainly as I can, George Winston does more with space than he does with actual notes. The silence that falls within the span of a single note is as important as the note he is playing.

On countless occasions have I turned to George Winston for that patience, that solitude, that gift of finding serenity in the throes of an exceptionally hectic day. Those notes of peace are there, always, to be captured, held, savored for their powerful strength that is bigger than any event in which you find yourself in.

To me, there is no time more essential to remember this than during the holiday season.

Coming home from school each day, I am now faced with fast-paced drivers who are taking life-threatening risks, just to save a minute or two on their commute. They have no care for the others whom they put at risk, not to mention themselves.

The same is true for that lovely shopping experience here in good ol’ Bal’more. Last night we gave ourselves the simple task of finding some ice cream for the kids. Shoppers at both grocery stores we went to were moving their carts like the same drivers on the beltway — careless, disrespectful, and with the added death-glare for slowing them down by merely existing.

The good news is that they, too, have the same moments we do. Even they, the too-busy-to-care crowd, have the chance to find peace in their hearts, their minds, their lives and make their holiday experience (not to mention for others as well) immeasurably more pleasurable.

Take a few moments to listen to this song. Let the peace fill your heart before you go into the day. Let it be a reminder to you that there is always the possibility to capture that serenity, even if it is one-sixteenth second at a time!

There aren’t too many versions of this song that I do not like. I didn’t even know it existed until a few years ago when a run of musicians started covering it — James Taylor, Sarah McLachlan, among others. Then, a good friend shared a Christmas playlist with me called Santa’s Boots, and it had Joni Mitchell performing her song live at the Royal Albert Hall in 1970.

Before she begins singing, she says this to the crowd: This is a song that I wrote a year ago just before last Christmas and, uh, it’s a very sad song. Gets yourself in a kind of melancholy before Christmas spirit. Here we go.

That’s not on the video that I am sharing above, but it should be. To hear Joni say these words, to share this sentiment….you can tell by the hush of the crowd that it was quite the intimate moment as she played for them, shared with them a bit of sorrow and reflection of things that no longer are.

James Taylor, Carole King, Joni Mitchell….They’re all able to capture that emotion so well, though. It’s hard to hear that in today’s music. Sarah McLachlan and Norah Jones do a pretty good job, but I almost feel as if they are who they are because of James, Carole, and Joni… No one can truly touch the folk singers of the 60s and 70s. That’s why, at least in the last two songs, it’s so important to go to the song’s origins and understand who composed them, and why.

I digress…

My memories of the Susquehanna River and our cabin in River Hills, Pennsylvania are what clinch this song as a top ten choice for me. We had a small pond at the end of our property, and as much as we would fish those waters in the summer months, we’d spend the weekends ice skating as a family (after Dad made sure the ice was thick enough to go on, of course). The cabin is where we would always have our “second Christmas.” Mom had a little plastic tree that we would decorate, and it seemed like our holiday was made complete by spending the weekend after Christmas there.

I have only fond memories of that cabin. Dad and Mom were their happiest, it always seemed, and my sister and I always had plenty to do. The weekends were, for the most part, unplugged (and in those days, that simply meant no television). There was enough to do outside and around the cabin to entertain us in the calmest of ways.

In every sense of the word, it was tranquility for each of us, as much as it was for all of us collectively.

After I graduated from college and landed my first teaching gig, I found a cabin to live in along the Chesapeake near Solomon’s Island. There as well, I made so many wonderful memories with friends, and I was glad that Mom was able to see it a few times after Dad passed away.

I miss the cabins, and Mom and Dad, greatly. The memories are so strong, especially this time of year.

And to hear Joni Mitchell sing such a song that brings back those same types of memories for her. . . .Well, there’s an affinity there that seems inexplicably strong. I can’t imagine this song being anywhere but in my Top Ten.

Enjoy, and take a moment to cherish the memories of your past that defined who you are today. May they bring you warm thoughts as we get closer to December 25.

For many reasons, this should have been number 10, as it would have served as a good bookend to number 1. You’ll see soon enough what that means; this countdown is heading to the finish line a little too fast for me now…

This song, in my life, marries the old and the new, and the constant hope for better days for all. Many of you who know me from my younger years remember my One Man Wiz, where I would perform The Wizard of Oz — all of it, and by myself — in about 10 minutes. There was a run one year where I seemed to be doing it daily, from Hagerstown to Towson to the Inner Harbor. Everybody wanted to see me do this show. I learned it from a great performer named Chuck who was one of the founders of the Smile Merchants, a group that I mentioned earlier in the Countdown. Nobody could do the One Man Wiz like Chuck. I simply had the honor of doing my best in carrying on his legacy while performing it all over the state.

My love for The Wizard of Oz is connected, in many ways, to my love of Judy Garland and the energy and dedication she brought to the stage and the screen. In addition to her acting and singing talents, she was an exhaustive performer who would entertain for hours and hours until she collapsed. She gave all she got, every chance she had. I like living life that way. My belief is that we’re on this Earth but once, and we need to make the most of every moment. Judy Garland did just that.

This song, “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” was written for her to sing in Meet Me In St. Louis, a film she did in 1944, just 5 years after The Wizard of Oz. It’s a rather sad song that she sings to her little sister, as they prepare to move to New York from St. Louis. It was never meant to be a holly, jolly song; instead, it called upon the more melancholy side of the holiday, wishing for better days to come.

It wasn’t until 1957 that Frank Sinatra did his own version of this song, but he requested that the lyrics be changed to reflect a more “jolly” sentiment. The line, “Until then, we’ll just have to muddle through somehow” was changed to “Hang a shining star upon the highest bough.” The next 50 years, nearly every performer who sang this song chose the more upbeat Sinatra version over the original Garland piece.

That is, until 2002, when James Taylor (my other favorite performer) decided to remain true to the Garland version when he cut a remake on his October Road cd. Taylor’s interpretation of the Garland classic brings back the melancholy tone as only JT can do, thus making it one of my all-time Christmas favorites.

I never saw Judy Garland live in concert (she died in 1969 when I was just 4 years old), but I’ve had the pleasure and the honor of seeing JT many times. And every concert I’ve attended, he has been tireless, devoted, and passionate about his music, its message, and its legacy. I’d like to think that he is living his life in many ways like Judy Garland did — Treasuring every moment as much as possible.

They both had similar battles, though, and they are reminders to us all that, at times, there are possible costs to living such a lifestyle. I find it fitting that these two selfless performers are also married by a song that provides a recognition of tough times, and a belief and hope that tomorrow may be better.

Enjoy both videos. And let’s stick together, muddle through, and keep our eye on even better days to come. :)