| You know that kid at the end of every heartwarming Christmas story who says, "Why can't it be like Christmas all year 'round?" That's me. Except instead of clutching a toy, cuddling a puppy or rejoicing in my reunited family, I am hoisting up a tumbler of Jack with four small ice cubes -- exactly how I like it -- that has been graciously offered to me by our host during a Christmas visit. When I'm saying "Why can't it be Christmas all year 'round?" it's because people drink during the holiday, so much so that we equate "holiday cheer" with festive libation. Makes you wonder, what would Jesus drink? Would the man who turned water into wine try the new merlot? Or would the King of Kings settle for nothing less than Glenlivet? Then again, the carpenter might be just as happy yanking a Bud from the cooler. Or if he's got a dry sense of humor, he'll say, "Gimme a Maker's Mark." The point is, we should see more clearly the direct connection between drinking and Christian benevolence. Longfellow, Johnny Cash & the Beginning of Christmas Depression at Age Seven We had a Christmas compilation album when I was a kid that featured Johnny Cash singing "I Heard the Bells On Christmas Day," a carol made from a poem by William Wadsworth Longfellow. Here's one dismal verse: And in despair I bowed my head 'There is no peace on earth,' I said, 'For hate is strong and mocks the song Of peace on earth, good will to men.' Johnny Cash's voice was weary, leathery, steeped in sadness but it revealed to me a truth. For all the Tiny Tims blessing us every one, there really wouldn't be any peace on earth, ever, and so the entire tagline for Christmas, "peace on earth, good will to men" is a goal that sets us up to fail. At least that was my conclusion. So at age seven I told my mother, "Bring me some Fresca, and leave the bottle." It was like Sinatra himself singing, "It's quarter to three, there's no one in the place, 'cept these three Wise Men 'n meeeeeee." Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, Leiber & Stoller Yet, if hate is strong, so is Jack Daniel's, and also my belief that people at heart pretty much all want to get along. When they don't get along, it's usually because nobody's listening. What better way to have people listen to you, and you listen back to them, than when drinks are poured. From that point on there are fewer degrees of separation to Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men, than any personal connection of mine to Kevin Bacon. Highballs shouldn't be only for Holy Days, either. It makes childrearing easier, too. Unlike my unsupervised, summertime-Keds-Dandelion Wine-youth, we have overscheduled our children. Your to-do checklist is probably longer than Ike's leading up to D-Day. It's easier to let our kids be carefree kids when we free up their calendars and get out of their faces. Doing so in an age when 24/7 news media makes us scared of our own shadows might require a relaxing drink to get the ball rolling. That's when a childrearing book can't hold a candle to The Bartender's Bible. It's for holidays. It's for every day. It's the gospel Peggy Lee sings when she asks, "Is that all there is? If that's all theres, my friend, let's break out the booze and have a ball." If you can embrace that wisdom, friend, you've just become the fourth magi. |
| PAH! |
| by Mark Morelli |
| Silent Nog, Holy Nog |