If only in my dreams

It’s the Sunday before Christmas—a full week away, but already many of my colleagues have taken off to head out to wherever “home” is configured in their world. Family, friends—eh, family. They’re most likely going home to family, whether it’s the home of their childhood, or the places where their families have shifted since those long-ago times.

One colleague will be on a bus from D.C. to family in New York. I asked if he takes one of those Chinatown-to-Chinatown jobbers that used to charge something like $5 for the trip. He said not, but my question prompted tales from other colleagues at the meeting who had done. Evidently many of the drivers used to be Russian, and one would spiel quite the patter, including offers of friendship, if you’re short of friends.

Another colleague is headed to Raleigh-Durham for a few days with her sister and in-laws, and then down to Wilmington, where her parents have retired. She likes Christmas on the water, and having spent one Christmas in Wilmington, I do see its charms.

Especially with family.

So today let’s have a song about coming home for the holidays, one that dates from 1943, when people all over the world were dreaming about just that wonderful thing. They were hoping with all their hearts that loved ones would return from the unimaginable carnage of the Second World War and be surrounded by the healing warmth and plenty and love that only family could provide.

There are many covers of “I’ll Be Home for Christmas”, from Bing Crosby to Rascal Flatts. I like Bette Middler’s phrasing, so here’s hers.

If you’re traveling home for the holidays this year—or only dreaming of it—safe journeys with joyous endings.