Yes, yes, our holiday is over. Ended a bit ago, actually. Must remind myself, as I enter stores, that for other folks, the holiday rush is still on and I shouldn’t be surprised by the mobs of people, and yet, I always am.
But I do love this time of year and while we forgo Christmas trees, Santa, and gingerbread houses, I still relish a good holiday movie. Last night, White Christmas was on TV. I decided my kids should see it.
“What is this?” demands the boy. “Is this a musical? I hate musicals.”
“What are they doing?” asks the girl. “That’s a war? Why are they at war? When is this? Were you alive when this was made? Was Grandma and Grandpa alive? Was Nana and Peter alive? Were they alive during the war? Where is the war?”
“Just hush!” I say. “Do you want to watch this or not?”
They agree they want to watch it but a few minutes in, when the two main characters meet the Haynes sisters, the boy asks, “Are they going to get married at the end? I don’t like this. Can we turn it off?”
“Sure, we can turn it off if you don’t like it.”
“Can we then watch something else?”
“Nope.”
Huff huff. “Fine. I’ll watch it.”
The girl starts in again, “Why is she mad at him? Who is that guy? Why is he a general? They aren’t at war anymore? Is the war real? Is the movie real? What is that noise? Why are there bombs? Why aren’t they in America?”
I explain, using a kidified CliffsNotes version, World War II. Then we move on.
“Why is there no snow in Vermont? Why don’t they go if there’s no snow? Can’t they just go? I don’t understand. Why was the sheriff there, again?”
And the boy: “They’re getting married at the end, aren’t they. Hurumph.”
“I’m letting you two stay up an hour past your bedtime to watch this. So either watch this or go to sleep!” I yell.
“Fine! I’m watching!”
“Do you know,” I ask the kids, “who wrote the song ‘White Christmas’?”
“No.”
“A Jewish man!” I tell them.
“Really?” starts the girl and I realize the error of my ways. “Why would a Jewish man write a song about Christmas? Why does the Christmas have to be white? Are you sure he was Jewish? The song is about Christmas.”
“Just watch the freakin’ movie.”
“But you said–”
“Never mind and watch.”
For those familiar with the movie, you’ll recall that Bing Crosby’s character goes on TV to ask the folks of his army unit to come up to Vermont. This set the girl off. “Why is that suddenly turning black and white?”
“Because they’re showing him on TV. In the old days, all TV was black and white.”
“No way!”
“Did you know that when I was a kid, I had to actually get up and turn a knob to change the channel on my television? And then I had to move these wires around to get the picture to be clear. Otherwise, it was all fuzzy.”
“Reallllly?”
“Really! Do you know what Peter had when he was your age?”
“A black and white TV?” the girl guessed.
“Nope. Not when he was your age.”
“A radio!” the boy piped up.
“Yep, that’s right!”
The girl looks a little confused. “So, did the radio have like a little screen on it for him to watch?”
“No, no screen. He could only listen.”
“So he’d have to imagine the pictures in his head?”
“Exactly.”
“Wow. Look!” the girl shouts, radios forgotten. “The dancers are girls! That’s why you thought I’d like this. Because those dancers are girls and I can dance like that! See?” She starts to dance ballet. The boy starts to do some breakdancing. “How old are those girls?”
“During the movie? They look to be about twelve or so. But now they’re about the same age as Peter.”
“Really?!?! But they’re kids!”
“In 1954 they’re kids. In 2010 they’re Peter’s age.”
The boy suddenly vaults over the sofa. “Arg! They’re kissing! Blech! I knew this would happen!”
“Is Miley Cyrus,” I ask the kids, “the most famous person you know of?”
“Um, no,” the boy says. “Selena Gomez is.”
“Yeah, Selena Gomez is the most famous person,” the girl agrees.
“Did you know that in his day, Bing Crosby was more famous than Selena Gomez? And Miley Cyrus?”
“No way,” the boy says.
“Nope,” says the girl.
“You don’t believe me?” I ask.
“No,” the boy says. “It’s not actually possible.”
At which point Adam comes in from the next room. “Bing Crosby really was more famous,” he says. “But Miley Cyrus has more Twitter followers.”
I recorded Miracle on 34th Street for them to watch. I think I might leave they house when they do.
