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Alex McRae Columnist

Published Sunday, December 25, 2011

Santa played a saxophone

Another great Christmas is in the memory book. And with it, my favorite reminder that it truly is better to give than receive.

I was a high school senior. My main source of income was playing in a band. Not a rock & roll group that drove the girls nuts. It was a dance band that specialized in “Big Band” hits made famous by groups led by musical legends like Glenn Miller and Tommy Dorsey.

The full, 17-piece band played school dances. A five-piece combo culled from the larger group performed for more intimate gatherings, like the one a civic club in a small town just north of Montgomery, Ala., threw a few days before Christmas.

On this particular evening, the group’s dedication to community service was momentarily hijacked by a burning thirst for bottled Christmas cheer. If the group had erected a nativity scene, the three wise men would have been Jack Daniel, Jim Beam and Johnny Walker.

The combo massaged the playlist to go heavy on Christmas classics for the occasion. We shouldn’t have bothered. Once the booze started flowing, the partiers didn’t tap a single toe to our rousing rendition of “Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer.” They even ignored the cha-cha version of “I saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus.”

Football season was over at Alabama and Auburn, but all that crowd wanted to hear were the two schools’ fight songs, “War Eagle” and “Yea, Alabama.” We played them until our fingers cramped and lips bled.

It was so bad that when an obscenely intoxicated banker offered us $100 bucks to stay another hour, we gladly said no.

Besides, we had another engagement scheduled for midnight in Montgomery.

We normally didn’t work so late, but this was a very unusual program for a very good cause. We were booked to play the midnight slot of a 24-hour telethon that raised money for needy people at Christmas.

It was a long drive and we barely got set up in time to start. After rocking a few seasonal tunes we cruised through the combo arrangement of “White Christmas,” then took a scheduled break. While we sipped soft drinks a TV producer left the control booth to tell us what had just happened.

An older woman had called to make a donation. She said she and her husband had contributed to the telethon for years. She also told the producer that her husband of over 40 years had died just before Thanksgiving and she was so devastated that instead of enjoying what had been her favorite season, she had stayed out of the lavishly decorated stores, avoided the Christmas programs at church and even quit listening to radio and TV Christmas specials. Too many memories, she said. All too painful.

But she called the program because she knew her husband would have wanted her to make their annual contribution to someone else. She said she only turned on the TV long enough to get the phone number for contributions. When she called, we were playing “White Christmas.”

She told the producer she listened to every note. And she said she and her late husband had always called it their very favorite Christmas song.

Before she hung up, she told the TV producer to thank us, not just for playing her special song, but for reminding her of how joyful and wonderful Christmas can be.

At the time I thought, “That’s nice.” Countless Christmases later I finally realized what a blessing that late night phone call from a stranger was.

I’ve paid for lots of Christmas gifts since then. But when I’m lucky I remember that no gift I ever gave was more sorely needed or gratefully received than one that didn’t cost me a dime.

(send your email comments to: alex@newnan.com)

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