Memories of Christmas Past

Every year at Christmastime, I reminisce about my first Christmas away from my family. I was 18 years old and in my second year of Nursing School. In those "olden days," nursing programs were based in hospitals, rather than colleges. The education was inexpensive, because the student nurse was basically the hospital's slave. We got four weeks of vacation a year, and it was not our choice when we took it. So it was that in 1963, I was hundreds of miles away from my family trying to discover Christmas on my own.

I attended a church in Oak Park regularly and sang in the church choir. Just before Christmas there was to be a Sunday evening concert by the choir. Although I often sang solos, duets and other special parts, the only one I had been scheduled to sing that night was with two other girls on the same part in one of the choir numbers. During the hour before the concert, the college and career group was meeting, and that's where I was when someone called me out of the meeting with, "Larry wants to see you."

Larry was the church pianist, and I couldn't imagine what he wanted with me. I soon learned that the program was to include a special arrangement by Larry of "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear." It was to be a duet, but the alto was ill with laryngitis. Larry wanted me to sing the part, because he really wanted his arrangement to be included in the program.

I am not sure how clearly I expressed verbally what I was thinking, but it went something like, "You're crazy! I am a soprano. I have never sung alto in my entire life. The concert is about 40 minutes from beginning. How could I possibly learn the part that quickly? Plus which, it isn't just for the hundreds of people attending....it's going to be recorded. If I mess up, there will be lasting evidence!"

Larry calmly informed me that the alto had the melody in some of the piece, and he could teach me the rest. He was so confident that I could do this, that I gave in. I had some misgivings about my sanity, but I gave in.

In the next 15 to 20 minutes, he analyzed the part for me. He told me that when I had to pick out the harmony, he would emphasize my note in the chord just before my entrance. He described some of the intervals as being similar to those in other songs he knew I was familiar with. We went through it about 3 times.

And I did it.

Now listening to the recording, there is one note that makes me uncomfortable. Not because it is a clunker, but because I attacked it too vigorously.

When Christmas Day came, a group of us decided to go caroling in the halls of the hospital before work at 7 AM. One of the girls in the group knew which room was occupied by a reputed Mafia boss whose bodyguards never left his side. We decided we would sing right outside his door. When we finished, a voice boomed out of the room with a stereotypical, "Tanks, goils." We hastened into the stairwell before bursting into giggles, which I expect he heard.

I had been working with the same patients for several days, so I took Christmas cards for them with me to work that morning, only to discover I had been reassigned to the other end of the floor. Being short-staffed had caused some realignment. I was disappointed when I realized that I had been assigned to two patients who had had strokes and were comatose. I had wanted to interact and spread some Christmas cheer.

When I entered the room of these two totally unresponsive ladies, I was startled to see that a beautiful orchid had been pinned to the pillow of one of the women. Her son had come in early that morning and placed it there as a token of his love for her. For me, it was a reminder that these ladies were not just blobs of humanity, but mothers who were loved. My whole attitude was abruptly altered.

As I bathed them, changed their positions, put clean sheets on the bed and gave other care that Christmas Day, I sang carols to them. I had no idea if they could hear the songs, but if a son cared enough to leave an orchid, I needed to care enough to make an attempt at helping them know that it was Christmas....a day for joy in the midst of pain.

Now every year, I listen to that old recording of "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear." Over the years, the record became scratchy, and I put the song on a tape. I guess I should now put it on a CD. I listen somewhat in awe of how well I actually did, but mostly because listening calls me back to that era of my life. It makes me remember my 18 year old self having the courage to perform a piece I didn't know well, laughing over "Tanks, goils," and having an orchid on a pillow adjust my attitude.

Being with family for Christmas is wonderful, but the real meaning is in experiencing the love, peace, joy and salvation that the Baby in the Manger entered our world to bring.

I knew that in my head before I was 18, but that year, it filled my heart.