Greetings from Poosey.


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My friend told me, “It was crowded, it was hot, and everybody was tired.” Disney World may not be the most common place to celebrate Christmas Eve, but my buddy had opted to take his Midwestern family on a little holiday jaunt to the land of chocolate mouse ears and five-dollar hamburgers.

His wife explained, “We had just come from Christmas dinner at the Polynesian Resort and got onto the bus with a load of people who’d been at the Magic Kingdom.”

Her husband Gilbert moaned, “After a week at Disney World you get really tired of the buses, and this was late at night after a very long day.” Then his wife added, “That’s when I saw Gilbert whisper to our youngest boy.”

Perhaps I’d better explain Gilbert on holiday. If you’ve seen any of the Chevy Chase vacation movies you’ll have the model. He’s the Super Pop – gung-ho, often leading the family into paths of adventure that they’d rather not travel, and an absolute human dynamo when it comes to anything concerning his family of six. We have suspected that Gilbert’s mother may have been given an intravenous caffeine drip during his delivery and the tube has never been completely removed.

His belabored wife continued, “There in the middle of the late-night crowded bus I heard him whisper, ‘Okay… here we go!’ and he began singing Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer. Then three or four other people joined in and then a few more and then it was a GO!” The same group of weary travelers, who a few minutes before sat staring numbly at the passing scenery, formed a Christmas chorus. No one knew the names of their fellow altos and tenors, but all dropped their Disney-deadened expressions and began smiling because of the temporary lunacy of one man.

“When we finished,” said his wife, “we thought well, we did a great job with that, but Gilbert was just getting started. That’s when he started Frosty the Snowman and eventually every Christmas song we could think of. Even those who couldn’t remember all the words chimed in with “nah nah nah nah…” She said that this eventually led to singing Happy Birthday to every cousin, aunt and brother onboard the late night bus and eventually the driver joined in the singing!

The only sadness of the night was when the bus arrived at their destination. She said, “People hesitated to get off… they hated to see it end… we had bonded!” Even though the load of passengers were in the midst of the world’s most spectacular playground, they were all feeling the pangs of being away from home on Christmas Eve, and all it took was a few notes from Super Pop to bring the merriment back into their celebration.

Gilbert’s wife told me that they did a week’s work of marvelous activities… swimming, reading, tennis and basketball, but when she asked her little crew about the favorite part of the trip, the answer was unanimous: “Dad’s getting the bus to sing!”

A little absurdity can go a long way. I had an uncle who had the habit of singing a full-voice when he’d hear the piped in music of department stores. When his mortified family would try to shush him, he’d say, “If they’re gonna play it, then I’m gonna sing it!”

Would it really be that terrible if Newt Gingrich turned to Mitt Romney in the middle of the next Republican debate and simply asked, “Mitt, if I take the lead on Michael Row Your Boat Ashore could you find a harmony?” Would the world fall apart if President Obama called up House Speaker John Boehner and said, “John! Meet me at my press conference this afternoon and see if you can find the words to Puff the Magic Dragon!”

I don’t mean that this sudden explosion of song throughout the nation would cure all our ills, but don’t you think it would lighten our mood? Would it greatly damage the Constitution to hear the Supreme Court break into a quick chorus of This Little Light of Mine before they begin their fall session? Could the scales of justice stand some tuning?

We’re entering what promises to be one singularly ugly season of nastiness as the two major political parties gear up for a muddy spring and a slanderous summer of accusations. And although I’m no fan of expanding government, I would suggest a new cabinet position: Gilbert: Secretary of Song.

You ever in Poosey, stop by. We may not answer the door but you’ll enjoy the trip.