After having family over on Christmas Day my sister Roseanne and I headed over to our 2nd family, the Walshes. We usually end every holiday there, grubbing off their deserts and alcohol. This year, James asked us to bring an instrument as we were going to sing Christmas songs in the living room. Roe brought out the tin whistle she brought me from her trip to Colonial Williamsburg, and when we arrived we spent some time singing—and trying to remember the words—to our favorite tunes.
A few minutes into it I said, “Why don’t we go caroling through the streets?”
And so began the first annual impromptu tradition of singing Christmas Songs along our favorite streets in Rockaway. Thankfully Matt Walsh is a talented guitar player who knows chords , and Roseanne actually remembers the words to songs beyond their chorus. We hit up our favorite houses, and were even invited to play inside the home of someone we didn’t know very well. All of the homes offered us alcohol, even if it was for us to leave. I wont shake a fist at free Jameson’s.
Christmas can be a big let down once you don’t believe in Santa. But singing in the rain through my hometown streets helps make it fun again.
Iris: i feel so bad for coolio
Iris: but props for hustling
Iris: hustling his whole failure of a career
“Stare, pry, listen, eavesdrop. Die knowing something. You are not here long.” Walker Evans
The heart is deceitful above all things, and it is desperately sick: who can know it?