Large families are difficult to miss. One vacation my mother lined us all up to take a picture, and other tourists stopped and took pictures as well. Inquiring minds would want to know, “Are all these kids yours?” Those who were not as strong in mathematics would ask, “How many of you are there?” When we would tell them, they’d say, “You could be your own baseball team!” We’d smile and nod even though we didn’t know how many people were needed for a baseball team. What we did know was that we had enough people to sing “The Twelve Days of Christmas.”Like many of our traditions, it began with Shakespeare Club. More specifically, it began with our Shakespeare Club’s Dickens Christmas Party. Junior high and high school students wearing an assortment of crushed velvet ball gowns, bonnets, top hats, and false side whiskers sat around our living room caroling. Dawn, the only adult I’ve ever known willing to organize a Dickens Christmas party for twenty-five teenagers, divided us into twelve groups to sing the Twelve Days of Christmas. One brave soul sang “A partridge in a pear tree” solo. “Two calling birds” was sung as a duet by an aspiring soprano who stood up and enthusiastically belted it out and a reserved young man who looked down and mumbled it uncomfortably under her warbling.
This performance became epic in our house. It didn’t take us long to begin to perform it ourselves during car rides. Starting with the oldest we’d each take a line and all sing “five golden rings” as loudly as we could. Every verse ended with Mom singing “two turtle doves” and Dad bringing it home with “a partridge in a pear tree.” Once in a while Mom would surprise us and pay tribute to that Dickens party by belting her line out in a shaky vibrato.
