Just a little more than a day before Christmas, and all through the house,
there was plenty of scurrying, but not by a mouse.
Ok, ok, ok...I can't do that...never was that good about reworking classics. But this song in particular has some great memories associated with it.
The song has undergone a 'modernization,' but it's still a good one:
See, when it came out 30 years ago, I was a wee lass, and didn't know of its existence at first. But within a couple of years, it became a permanent part of the personal Christmas repertoire. My mom instantly loved it, especially the hokiness of it. I mean, seriously, it's funny! It's not meant to be as serious as "White Christmas," or as merry as "Jingle Bells," and of course it's not religious in any way. But it reminds you that this is the season to be jolly, to be childlike with anticipation and goodwill. It's funny!
But...and there's always a but...there was Dad. When I was a kid he hated this song, and I do mean hate. If it came on the radio, he would turn it off, even if the radio in question was in my room and I was quietly enjoying it. He found it offensive, humorless, and overall a representation of the evils of modern society. I called him a killjoy several times, and I think Mom's stepping in finally killed his off-turning ways. But he always maintained that he hated the song, and his actions and body language certainly backed that up.
Fast forward several years...to 2 weeks ago. We're driving through a local farm that has a holiday light display every year...well, I take that back, this is the second year of it. But still, we were driving through, marveling at the creativity and beauty, and at the same time talking about Christmas songs. Dad then lays this bombshell: "You know, I haven't heard 'Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer' this year...I love that song! It's so funny!
Mom and I immediately interrogated him on that point, bringing up his actions and words of the past. His retort was simple, yet very un-Dad-like: "Well, I guess I grew used to it, and started to like it."
Dude, this is my dad...one of the most rigid of opinions. Literally heaven and earth has to move before he changes his usually well-informed opinion on something. And when it comes to popular culture, he is incredibly granite-like; this is a man who started his adulthood in 1960, and disliked essentially every major British rock band to ever create history, simply because they were British. (For the record, King Jimi Hendrix and Queen Janis Joplin rule his musical kingdom, and only Eric Clapton has cracked his lineup.) The only other time I ever heard him change his opinion on popular culture was on the usage of the word 'suck,' however I understood (later) why he hated us kids to use the word; he figured he could control us from cussing, despite the fact that he was a beautiful example of how to improper language in a most eloquent manner.
So, as I sit here and use my Christmas/Birthday gift from my parents (all 32" of LCD and HD-goodness), I start rolling the Christmas songs in my head again...and sing along to the tale of what happens when someone drinks too much eggnog and tries to walk home in the snow on Christmas Eve night.