Kissing the Season

by Bob Setzer, Jr.
Christmas always comes early for me on a Friday night in December. That’s the night the Douglass Theater hosts two guitar maestros playing Christmas carols. The two musicians--Robin Bullock and Steve Baughman--play a unique blend of Celtic and Appalachian music on guitars, mandolins, and dulcimers. This dynamic duo rarely sings, offering up instead the pure, sweet sounds of acoustical music. Most years, Christmas descends for me in all of its joy and power as I hear Robin and Steve pluck and strum “Good Christian Men, Rejoice” or “Angels We Have Heard on High.”

Part of what makes this music so special is that Robin and Steve never do any sentimental, schmalzy Christmas music, just proven hymns and carols that have moved audiences for generations. As Robin Bullock asked at this year’s concert after introducing, “Good King Wenceslas”--a tune he said dated from the 13th century --“Does anyone really think people will be singing Brittany Spears tunes eight centuries from now?”

The laughter rippling through the crowd answered the question.

But this year, there was an especially magical moment at the concert. It was during intermission when the Master of Ceremonies was giving out door prizes. Among the prizes were several bags of Hershey’s Kisses, the gold-wrapped ones with an almond inside. Upon learning of this delectable offering, I sat forward in my seat. I listened in rapt attention as the winning numbers from the ticket stubs were called. My mouth watered in anticipation. I had to win those Hershey’s Kisses. What a thrill it would be to soak up the Celtic Guitar Summit while wolfing down all that chocolate laced with nuts!

One by one, the winning numbers were called. One by one, my hopes faded as the Hershey’s kisses were handed out to the winners. Finally, all the numbers were called and I was destitute, forlorn, defeated. No Hershey’s kisses for me.

The concert resumed, and I listened as best I could, distracted by my unfulfilled chocolate cravings. I was not feeling festive.

As Robin and Steve delivered up a bright, airy version of “Ding Dong Merrily on High,” the person to my left gave me a little nudge. She then handed me an open bag of Hershey’s Kisses. One of the winners, several seats away--far more overwhelmed by the Christmas spirit than I--had chosen to share his or her windfall with others. I took my two Hershey’s kisses (OK, three) and passed the bag on to the person at my right. The bag made its way on down the row, surprising and delighting one person after another.

I popped the Hershey’s kisses in my mouth and smiled at the burst of flavor. My earlier selfish, greedy grasping had been vanquished by some selfless soul’s spontaneous generosity. So there, in a darkened theater one Friday night in December, for me Christmas happened.