mY BEST CHRISTMAS
LARRY KERCHNER
When Joe Flynn reached out to me to write an article about my Blue Rock experiences, I, of course, was flattered to be asked and willing to help in any way I could. But the more I thought about it, the more daunting it became. How can I condense some of the most significant years of my life into an “article?” I could write a book on the subject! A thick one! So, with the holidays upon us, I decided to save the “War and Peace”-sized tome for another time and offer an article that was published in 2012. It’s a memory that combines both the Corps and Christmas, and one I’ll never forget.
Even throughout the years my daughters were growing up, when I would spend the entire night putting together bikes, Barbie houses, and toys of every description, I’ve always found Christmas Eve to be a tranquil, magical time – peaceful, yet exciting. How I wish I could recapture those years in particular, when I couldn’t wait to see the expressions on their little faces on Christmas morning! It would never be possible to top those times, so for the purposes of this offering, let me hark back to my own youth and one Christmas Eve that stands out as being particularly memorable.
I had, to the best of my recollection, just turned twelve years old, and was living where I grew up in Carney’s Point, New Jersey. We had eaten dinner and my parents and I were sitting in the living room, listening to Christmas music by the light of the tree and the plastic candlesticks that shone in each window of the house. Each one held a small, yellowish-orange bulb. It was the extent of our electric Christmas display, but the “candles” looked nice from the street – sort of homey and old-fashioned – and, because we kept the other lights off in every room to highlight the candles’ effect, it gave the house a special, warm glow that was unique to this time of the year. I loved it. Between the lights and the smell of the real Scotch pine (festooned with decorations and tinsel), I was in Christmas Heaven. I suppose the presents under the tree didn’t hurt either!
Just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, my cousin, Michael, who lived across the street, came to the door and asked if I could come out to play because it was starting to snow. SNOW!!! Christmas Eve, and it was snowing! Not a blizzardy, wet, nasty snow. Not those big clumpy snowflakes that you knew wouldn’t amount to anything, and would most likely turn to rain. It was a steady, gentle snow that fell straight down. It made the world seem quiet and calm, and you could actually hear the snowflakes land as they blanketed the ground and feel the snow crunch under your feet as you packed it down with your shoes. But here’s the best part: There was a telephone pole across the street that held a streetlight with one of those big old incandescent light bulbs and a flat rippled shade above it. It backlit the falling snow as if in a movie. Down, down it came, yet at the same time, everything was so still. It was perfect.
After a time out front on our small street, under the light, Michael and I went back into our houses to resume contemplating our respective visions of sugar plums, or, more likely, the things that were important to 11 and 12 year-old boys. Besides, who knew what a “sugar plum” was? I’m not sure I’ve ever actually seen one to this day!
So I’m listening to “The Little Drummer Boy,” trying to guess what treasures lay under the tree, and generally basking in the mystical feeling of the “night before Christmas,” when what do I hear but another knock at the door! I knew it wasn’t my cousin again, so I let my Mom answer it and went back to my basking, ‘til it was interrupted by my Mom saying, “Larry, it’s for you.” Huh? For me? I’m a kid! Who would come to the door for me on Christmas Eve? Hesitantly, I stepped to the door, and who was standing there but the Director of Blue Rock, Bob McGowan, holding a black corduroy jacket. It had gold trim, with “Blue Rock Drum & Bugle Corps” embroidered on the back, and “Larry” embroidered on the front! My first corps jacket! Blue Rock’s first corps jacket! The jacket that my parents had ordered what seemed like eons ago! It came in on Christmas Eve! Talk about “bearing gifts!” Wow! I couldn’t wait to put it on!
The details of the rest of that night are a blur, but I know I went out again and stood under the streetlight, wearing my new jacket, and watching the snowflakes land on the pristine corduroy as I gazed at my house with the candles in each window. Inside were my parents, presents, music, the scent of pine, and magic. It would be the best Christmas I ever knew until I had kids of my own.
I had, to the best of my recollection, just turned twelve years old, and was living where I grew up in Carney’s Point, New Jersey. We had eaten dinner and my parents and I were sitting in the living room, listening to Christmas music by the light of the tree and the plastic candlesticks that shone in each window of the house. Each one held a small, yellowish-orange bulb. It was the extent of our electric Christmas display, but the “candles” looked nice from the street – sort of homey and old-fashioned – and, because we kept the other lights off in every room to highlight the candles’ effect, it gave the house a special, warm glow that was unique to this time of the year. I loved it. Between the lights and the smell of the real Scotch pine (festooned with decorations and tinsel), I was in Christmas Heaven. I suppose the presents under the tree didn’t hurt either!
Just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, my cousin, Michael, who lived across the street, came to the door and asked if I could come out to play because it was starting to snow. SNOW!!! Christmas Eve, and it was snowing! Not a blizzardy, wet, nasty snow. Not those big clumpy snowflakes that you knew wouldn’t amount to anything, and would most likely turn to rain. It was a steady, gentle snow that fell straight down. It made the world seem quiet and calm, and you could actually hear the snowflakes land as they blanketed the ground and feel the snow crunch under your feet as you packed it down with your shoes. But here’s the best part: There was a telephone pole across the street that held a streetlight with one of those big old incandescent light bulbs and a flat rippled shade above it. It backlit the falling snow as if in a movie. Down, down it came, yet at the same time, everything was so still. It was perfect.
After a time out front on our small street, under the light, Michael and I went back into our houses to resume contemplating our respective visions of sugar plums, or, more likely, the things that were important to 11 and 12 year-old boys. Besides, who knew what a “sugar plum” was? I’m not sure I’ve ever actually seen one to this day!
So I’m listening to “The Little Drummer Boy,” trying to guess what treasures lay under the tree, and generally basking in the mystical feeling of the “night before Christmas,” when what do I hear but another knock at the door! I knew it wasn’t my cousin again, so I let my Mom answer it and went back to my basking, ‘til it was interrupted by my Mom saying, “Larry, it’s for you.” Huh? For me? I’m a kid! Who would come to the door for me on Christmas Eve? Hesitantly, I stepped to the door, and who was standing there but the Director of Blue Rock, Bob McGowan, holding a black corduroy jacket. It had gold trim, with “Blue Rock Drum & Bugle Corps” embroidered on the back, and “Larry” embroidered on the front! My first corps jacket! Blue Rock’s first corps jacket! The jacket that my parents had ordered what seemed like eons ago! It came in on Christmas Eve! Talk about “bearing gifts!” Wow! I couldn’t wait to put it on!
The details of the rest of that night are a blur, but I know I went out again and stood under the streetlight, wearing my new jacket, and watching the snowflakes land on the pristine corduroy as I gazed at my house with the candles in each window. Inside were my parents, presents, music, the scent of pine, and magic. It would be the best Christmas I ever knew until I had kids of my own.