Last night, after a heavenly dinner of shrimp scampi,
a new Dunnevant family Christmas tradition
made its debut. My wife got the idea from some old friends of ours on Facebook…and
when Pam gets an idea, watch out! Soon, I received an e-mail invitation notifying
me that I was to prepare for a night of caroling and Christmas light viewing
topped off by a visit to Krispy Kreme. The attire was to be pajamas only, and
hot apple cider would be provided.
So there we were at 7 o’clock, Pam, Kaitlin, Jon and
myself piling into Ron and Paula’s disagreeable old Buick. Never one to leave
the house unprepared, Pam brought a couple of bags of popcorn (two flavors) and
enough blankets to warm a platoon of men at Bastogne. First stop was out in Hanover County at the
home of Roger and Cynthia Harris, dear friends who suffered a terrible loss
recently. Unfortunately, they weren’t home, a predictable result of such spontaneity.
Undeterred, our hearty band then set out to carol our new-Mom niece, Christina.
We got halfway through our second number when we remembered how much Ezra hates
music, “No Sing!!!” We imagined him inside, perhaps seconds away from falling
asleep only to be roused into hysteria by this crazy band of random singing
monsters outside of his window. Kid will probably be scarred for life! However,
all was not lost, since we got to see little Evelyn for the first time.
Adorable child.
One more caroling stop at Pam’s parents’ house and
finally success. Russ and Vi had just gotten home from church and were still
adorned in Christmas finery. One out of three ain’t bad.
Then we decided that the Christmas light show would
have to wait until we were properly fortified with Krispy Kreme doughnuts, or
what we in Richmond, Virginia like to call them…H.A.B.’s( heart attack bait). Of course, the red “ready light” was
shining brightly and the place was packed. It was probably the only place in
town where seven people in pajamas with bright red, furry Santa hats could go
unnoticed. An observation…ever notice how loud everyone is inside a Krispi
Kreme joint? An effect of the raging sugar highs I suppose.
Up next was a beautiful and enchanting drive down Monument
Avenue where we got to see how really wealthy people decorate their 2 million
dollar anti-bellum mansions for Christmas. Hint: no inflatable Santas. I, for
one, am glad that the current fad of these jolly inflatables came along after
my kids were grown. I can only imagine the years of psycho-analysis I would have
to pay for after my kids saw Santa alive and happy one night and then deflated
and clearly murdered the next morning on the neighbors’ lawn.
“Daddy, who killed Santa!!??”
“No, no Patrick…he isn’t dead. H-he’s just…resting.
Yeah, that’s it, he’s resting!”
“No Daddy. Somebody killed him! He’s just lying there
dead on the ground!!”
“No son, he just looks
dead. The closer we get to Christmas, Santa only comes out at night. He
sleeps during the day!”
“Wait…Santa’s a vampire?”
Anyway, the lights were beautiful, from the elegance of
Monument Avenue to the delightful kitsch of suburbia.
Oh, and for the record, a total of only sixteen doughnuts
were consumed. Sixteen out of a possible twenty four, an admirable demonstration
of discipline in the midst of a season of excess.
Merry Christmas!
