Emily Paine Carter

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A tip of my jingling elf cap to everyone sharing the wonder of Christmas -- and passing it along to our dear cherubim. And vice versa: what gifts we grown-ups receive!

Santa's -- and oh, yeah, Father Time's -- winged sleigh is nigh upon us, of course. More holiday tasks? Yikes!

Already -- thanks to our divine Southern holiday staple, country ham -- I have a right good case of "Christmas edema." After a few ham biscuits, my fat little fingers fumble at tying a bow.

If we can budge plump Santa aside, we think of what kicked off the greatest series of anniversary parties the world has ever known: the wondrous, blessed babe. And we think of our own babes: wide-eyed, wonderful. Of our wee ones pointing and shrieking, "Look! Lights! There's more Christmas!"

Or further charming themselves into our hearts at school, church and ballet events. I hope you've enjoyed such programs this season, or have fond memories.

To me, Christmas will forever be classmate Ann Walters' solo in our North Cross/Salem pageant (starring Anne Lee Stevens and John Patrick as Mary and Joseph). In a clear voice Ann sang two songs of complex verses, such as "There's a star in the East on Christmas morn" and "When I was a sinner." Our rollicking choruses followed -- as maybe only third-graders can rollick: "Rise up shepherd and foller" and "Go, tell it on the mountain."

And I recollect a choir program at ye olde Broad Street Elementary. On risers -- on the very spot where Salem City Council now sits -- we seventh-graders worked our way through "The Twelve Days of Christmas," complete with arm and hand motions. Music teacher Karen Johnson's composure finally cracked as parents guffawed over the antics of Andy Minton and Hal Johnston. No graceful "seven swans a-swimming" motions for those two hard-punching athletes, no sir-ree! "Little Hal's" gesture looked like a championship pass -- previewing his future Andrew Lewis High School football and basketball glory. (Later that stellar arm would propel Roanoke College to a national basketball title.)

And many remember a national record of another sort: "Happy Birthday, Jesus" by classmate Cindy Saul -- already famous when she entered ALHS. And other Class of '67 ("the best") Wolverines' singing. ... Say, Robin Smith's sweet, crystalline a cappella solo captured on a school recording: "Sweet Little Jesus Child." And "Punk" Cockerham's (aka Chris Hart of legendary Truckers' Delight fame) soulfully singing 'most anything in her better-than-Bonnie-Raitt voice like warmed brandy.

Such joy!

Sure, many scholars now figure that Jesus was born in the spring; they trace the December date to pagan Rome's Saturnalia fest.

But no matter how our forebears came to place the celebration, its light lifts our winter-weary, our burdened, spirits. Life's dark "Decembers" come to all.

Like Dante's character in "The Inferno," sometimes we wander in the dark woods. But, as the poet continued, we, too, can come forth and once again behold the stars.

Need a fix of (non-bottled) cheer? Find -- or recall -- those hopeful, shining young faces. Those cheery voices, filling an entire auditorium with warmth and light. We welcome such brightness -- and, personally, those flashes of unexpected humor (see Andy and Hal, above).

Joy, beauty, wonder, the promise of dawn: Christmas Day brings it all. We're eternally invited to one mighty birthday party ... and WE receive the gifts!

Say, "do you hear what I hear?" A sweet, clear voice calling us out of whatever December ruins we're stumbling through, urging us to see that "star in the East on Christmas morn." And so to "rise up ... and foller."