Christmas Inebriated Canal Crawl

On Christmas night we Caroled up and down the Dead End Canal on the Reverend's Tri-toon boat which can carry a lot of people. To be honest we were lousier this year than in the past because everyone refused to practice. Thank goodness for the Rev's stereo system because at least our back-up music was in key.

Most of the Canal-ites that were home came out to their dock and either cheered or booed, good naturedly. Only Run-aground Ralph and Cap'n Scrunch turned off their dock lights when we approached. Mrs. Crunch filed an e-mail complaint with the Board of Governors about a male dressed as Santa Claus who may have dropped his red trousers and mooned their residence.

She was offended that her teenage Grand children had witnessed the incident. Since there were at least 3 of Santa's helpers aboard and almost everyone on board, with the exception of the Reverend, was tight as a Drum, there was no way to confirm the sighting. Complaint denied!

The evening ended at Erie Earl's home because we were all feeling melancholy. Detroit Dave kept playing Bing Crosby's Dreaming of a White Christmas repeatedly. Earl had recently purchased an electric fireplace as big as a real one and it even gave off heat. It was a marked improvement over the pesticide soaked fire wood he had been burning in his real fire place. Liked to kill his neighbors.

Earl tuned in his 60”smart TV to some channel with snow falling scenes and we sat around drinking mulled wine in honor of Clarence the Angel in 'Wonderful Life'. Actually, the mulled wine was microwaved Sangria with a Cinnamon stick. But it sure could do the job. Our singing improved and then tapered off as we slipped back into the dark hole of melancholy.

I'm not sure who started it but we were soon telling stories of our worst Christmas and somehow that cheered us all up. Several were from veterans away from home and in dangerous places. I started one about calling home person to person on Christmas Eve 1966 and hearing my sisters speculate about the foreign lady demanding to speak to their Mom. I was glad to hear about my brothers getting ready to pick up their dates for Midnight Mass and to talk to everyone.

I didn't mention the long walk back to Daner-Kasern through the snow nor the bedlam that was happening in our barracks at 4am. Instead I told about going home for 'Operation Santa Claus' 1967 and surprising my Mother by shouting upstairs, “I'm home” but being admonished to stay on the towels overlaying the newly shampooed carpet. We brothers sound a lot alike. I knew I was home!

If anyone would like the Mulled Wine recipe, please send me an e-mail and I'll try to talk you out of it!

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