Jeanne, our Office Manager, probably wonders why I hurriedly walked out of our staff meeting last week. I began to write her a note, apologizing for my actions,  but  I gave up. Instead, I decided to address the cause of my hurried exit with about a thousand or so other families.  Jeanne is probably thinking as she reads this on Monday morning, "All I did was sing a few lyrics from the song, Little Drummer Boy".

Like most adults, I know what, "pushes my buttons". I really don't know the technical term that describes what happens when a certain sound, smell, word, or action, immediately brings back a vibrant but distant memory to a person. I will use the term, "trigger" for lack of the proper scientific term for this phenomenon.

As an example; to this day, if I am in a church and I smell incense, I am immediately transported back to a small Catholic church in Albuquerque, New Mexico where my four brothers and I were all altar boys. Or, If I see a large stack of dishes in a kitchen sink it instantly reminds me of police work and many of the dysfunctional people I dealt with who would stack dishes and pans higher then the Dr. Seuss cartoon "Cat in the Hat". Only difference, those dishes smelled worse than "Stinky Pete" in Toy Story.

When something triggers a memory, I open a DVD in my mind.  Sometimes it opens it too quickly. I know the DVD's I do not want to play, and of course, the ones I truly enjoy seeing. The good and bad of life. Some DVD's I could watch a thousand times a day and never get bored. Like the birth of Troy, Raymond or Ryan, or when Theresa and I were floating in a second-hand life raft on Mission Bay that warm summer night. She was laughing so hard tears were falling like diamonds from her eyes. Some fabulous memories.

In our company meeting, we were discussing what we could give to over 200 friends and clients. There were some pretty funny ideas. Then Yolanda came up with the idea of our own mix CD of Holiday Music. The idea caught on fast. Everyone began yelling out their favorite holiday songs. Yes, let it be known, Theresa absolutely lives for the Partridge Family Christmas and Yolanda likes Justin Beiber. I don't know why exactly, but I yelled out the song, "Little Drummer Boy" by Burl Ives or Frank Sinatra.  For some reason, it just reminded me of Christmas.

As we were finalizing plans for the CD and how it would be delivered, Jeanne started singing, Pahrump a hump rump a bump, rump a ump rump a bump bump. By the third "rump" it was Christmas Eve forty years ago. My dad had already passed out the gifts, one at a time to each of us kids.  No presents for my parents.  It was a cold New Mexico night with luminario candles flickering as they burned in the driveway. There was my dad who seemed to work all the time drumming his thick worn fingers on the bar. He was signing. Trust me, my dad was not the singing type. But on Christmas eve with enough Christmas cheer he would sometimes sing ...A warm memory wrapped in the sadness he and my mom are now gone. I can watch the DVD now. I was not prepared to see at eleven AM on a Wednesday, so I did walked out.

Now as I write this, it reminds me of what memories are we leaving our children?  We should sing out loud more.  I guess wether it is Christmas, Hanukkah or Ramadan, the holiday season is about remembering the ones you loved.  So, Jeanne  I am sorry I walked out. You remember my parents as well as I remember yours.  I am sure your mom and dad as well as mine are likely relaxing together with a little Christmas cheer of their own, as they sing... "I played my best for Him, pa rum pum pum pum, rum,pum, pum, pum, rum pum pum pum...

Wishing you a Happy Holiday.  From our family to yours.