I want a hippopotamus . . .

I had the privilege of taking the lovely Madelyn Simone and the delightful Elizabeth Holiday for a girl’s night out, drinking hot chocolate and oohing and aahing over Christmas lights, as we drove through the snow-dusted December streets. With the voices of Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck and Goofy leading us on, we sang heartily about the twelve days of Christmas, the fact that it’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas, and the joy of decking the halls with boughs of holly. But when the CD track switched to “Toyland,” Madelyn directed me to move to the next song. “That’s boring,” she complained.

Perhaps there’s a holiday song or two that draws a less than positive reaction from us as well. I’m not too enthralled with songs with baby in the title, such as “Santa Baby” and “Baby It’s Cold Outside,” nor do I like the ones that include acts of aggression, as in “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer.” And I’ll admit, if I hear “Christmas Shoes” once each December, that’s more than enough for me.

Watching the 1953 clip of Gayla Peevey singing, “I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas,” I felt for her two silent companions, especially the head-bobbing brunette whose bangs left much of her forehead exposed (I’ve got similar pictures among my own childhood photos). But despite its rather annoying melody, the song sold a half million copies the year it was released, propelling Gayla to an Ed Sullivan performance. Adoring Oklahoma City fans donated enough money that year to purchase a hippo in honor of Gayla (to be housed at the local zoo), and 10,000 people came to visit the hippo on its first Christmas day in the Sooner State. More information than you wanted to know, I’m sure.

Despite these less-than-stellar contributions to the holiday music genre, the music of Christmas continues to bring a sense of connection to us, calling us back to childhood experiences of note. I had one of those flashbacks this week when I joined what seemed like thousands of adoring grandparents and parents at Madelyn’s first-grade holiday concert. The children’s interpretation of “All I Want for Christmas,” complete with lisps in just the right spots, was reminiscent of a family of singing chipmunks. “The Friendly Beasts” took me back to my days in the cherub choir as we sang of the donkey, camel, sheep, cow, and dove who each gave something of themselves for the Christ-child. I saw a hint of my own childhood eagerness in Madelyn’s sparkling eyes, so intent on singing joyously.

While some Christmas music is pretty awful, and yes, Madelyn, even boring, I’m convinced that singing the same songs each year isn’t necessarily bad. The rhythm of holidays, especially as expressed in music, speaks of constancy, of steadiness. I long for that kind of rootedness, a connection with my heritage, with values that don’t go out of style.

Just this year, I bought a number of miniature salt and pepper shakers that reminded me of the small wax figurines which rested on a windowsill in my parent’s home, often a bit misshapen by the warmth of the December sun. We never lit the wicks of those candles, but carefully unwrapped them year after year, always a welcome part of our Christmas preparations. This year, chubby toddler fingers will be allowed to gently hold these new angels, Santas and snowmen, just as I held the fragile candles so many years ago.

Some may call me nostalgic, but I prefer the term, “preserving our shared heritage.” These are our people, our traditions, our roots. As the candlelight glows around us, we’ll once again gather in the pews on Christmas Eve to sing of angels and shepherds on a hillside, of a babe in a manger, and yes, perhaps of a friendly beast or two (although hopefully no hippos). Some of those we love may be scattered throughout this world or departed for a world beyond our understanding, but somehow, we will still raise our voices together as the faithful come, joyful and triumphant. Indeed, light has come to our world. Gloria in Excelsis Deo.