Dad's Last White Christmas

We grew up with the story of Holiday Inn, the 1942 movie starring Dad's two favorite performers, Bing Crosby and Fred Astaire. The legend was that Dad and his friend Wayne, who had been living in California, grew homesick after hearing the song and hitchhiked back to Sioux City in time to celebrate Christmas in the north. "You just knew when you saw his pipe on top of the piano that they were going to get back together."

Whatever that meant. (We found out years later when the magic of cable television brought Holiday Inn right to our living room.)

There's so much more to the story, but that's for another post.

I want to fast-forward to the Dad's last Christmas in 1983. My daughter Libby's third-grade class performed White Christmas for their school Christmas program. They not only sang but also learned sign language for the lyrics. Mom, Dad and I sat there on short chairs in the auditorium.

In honor of fM's holiday carol blog, and in Dad's memory:



The sun is shining, the grass is green,
The orange and palm trees sway.

There's never been such a day
in Beverly Hills, L.A.
But it's December the twenty-fourth,—
And I am longing to be up North—

I'm dreaming of a White Christmas
Just like the ones I used to know
Where the treetops glisten
and children listen
To hear sleigh bells in the snow.

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas
With every Christmas card I write
May your days be merry and bright
And may all your Christmases be white.

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas
With every Christmas card I write
May your days be merry and bright
And may all your Christmases be white.

Irving Berlin