Carol of the Bills

I don't imagine you'll be especially surprised if I tell you I do very close to NO shopping for my wife or either of our children at Christmas. I don't call this time of year 'the holiday'-if anything, I would call it The Holiday, capitalization and emphasis intentional, and not intending any disrespect to you if you're celebrating Hanukkah or Winter Solstice or What-Do-I-Know-or-Care because I don't. I was raised to call this 'holiday event' Christmas so thanks for your political correctness in letting me do that.

Meanwhile, all I do is follow around behind my wife and make sure whatever she decides finds its way to the car and ultimately into the house. The system has functioned like clockwork for thirty-year Christmases in some form or other.

Yesterday, we varied the routine by enjoying a musical interlude in the middle of the afternoon a short drive the house in neighboring New London, courtesy of the New London Community Orchestra, of which our daughter, a violist, is a member. It was marvelous, though I admit I could be biased.

Except I'm not-they really are wonderful. They are very fortunate in having a terrific patron, the Harbour Towers, a spectacular condominium project on Bank Street place at their disposal the ballroom for their performances which are really fund raisers to finance their community outreach at New London public schools for music lessons for those in need. Quite frankly, I think everyone needs music so I'm happy to go.

And yesterday's show gave me the smiles and modified joy I needed to take on a neighborhood mall and emerge hours later if not exactly victorious, then Victorious Secret. C'mon, I worked hard for that one and had the element of surprise as an ally. And I hope it made you smile, much in the manner as our daughter and the entire ensemble made me smile yesterday. I'm starting to think there is a Christmas spirit and it tastes a lot like razzleberry dressing.  
-bill kenny