Monday, November 27, 2023

Finally Found (And Heard) "Home For Christmas"

I was no more than five years old when I discovered this "Home for Christmas" record album.

It was tucked away in a box on the floor of the spare bedroom closet in my childhood home at 2108 Belmont Avenue in Joliet.


That spare bedroom would become mine at age ten. But for many years before that, my sister and I were not allowed in it. So of course, I was curious as to what secrets it held.

None, actually. Just stuff stored away.

At some point over the next couple of years, I asked my mother why we didn't play that record.  She never questioned how I knew about its existence. I'm not sure she even remembered or ever played that record.

Still, my parents added it to the set of Christmas albums that my parents stacked on the turntable each year the day after Thanksgiving and played throughout the Christmas season. This initial set of records became THE official Christmas music at our house, and the Christmas soundtrack to the childhood Christmases for my sister Karen and me.

The back cover copy is just as enchanting at the music. I've read that text hundreds of times. But would today's listeners even have the patience and attention span to savor each word?


Richard borrowed the albums and recorded them all on his reel to reel recorder in the fall of 1980. For years, they played nearly continuously in the weeks leading up to and immediately after Christmas until the tape broke. 

That's how my three oldest children grew up with the same Christmas music my sister Karen and I had enjoyed so much.

Karen wound up with the records, which she recorded on cassettes and shared with us. I played them in the middle of the night all the years we delivered newspapers (until the tape broke).

That's how my three youngest children also grew up with the same music.

We can find all these records electronically now, except for one. That one is "Home for Christmas."

It took years to track down a vinyl copy. But I diligently searched online by keyword. 

Now, simply searching for "Home for Christmas" pulls up thousands of images. So I kept narrowing my search. I guessed by year. I added image description and so forth.


I finally discovered the entire album was arranged and produced by Henri René, an American and internationally acclaimed arranger, composer, conductor, and recording artist and producer.

And yet, I still couldn't locate a copy. Not vinyl. Not electronic.

For Christmas 2019, Daniel bought me a turntable and a few albums to play on it. But COVID soon followed, and we never set it up. 

In 2021, we finally found a vinyl copy of "Home for Christmas" online and ordered it. We set up the turntable and discovered we'd lost the cord in the move and had to order one.

When Christmas 2022 rolled around, we brought out "Home for Christmas" and realized we'd never ordered the cord.

Well, we finally ordered the cord. 

Last night, we finally set up the turntable, took the long-awaited album out of the sleeve and see it the turntable played.

I had to explain to Rebekah how the arm sung up and out on its own and how to selected the appropriate playing speed.

But lo and behold - the record played! And fifty years rolled back in my mind.


We didn't even listen to one song. I had worked that day; it was getting late; and I had "life things" to do in preparation for Monday.

Before we listen to "Home for Christmas," we need a safe place to even set the turntable.

I'm hoping we can find a place tonight.

Maybe.

I'm working late tonight and have meetings every night this week.

If not tonight, then...soon.

Happy Monday!





2 comments:

Anonymous said...

I am really hoping that you can listen to that song tonight--childhood memories can help us recapture a less demanding time in our lives.

Denise M. Baran-Unland said...

No, I worked late Monday night. I honestly might not have time to set everything up in a secure place until the weekend. Thank you for the lovely sentiment. My impressions of Christmas were definitely shaped during those less demanding years.