I love to sing. Especially Christmas songs. And especially the Christmas classics we sang at Church.
However, I am not so big on "Little Drummer Boy" that they seem to play every freak'in 15 minutes between Thanksgiving and Christmas. "Feliz Navidad" is getting on may last nerve a well. But I digress.
One Christmas season I joined a group from Church to go caroling at the children's center not far from the Church. As we sang one young lady walked over to me and grabbed my leg. One of the counselors came over and took her back to her chair. She came back. He drug her back. She tried to come back again. He held her and she struggled to get free again the whole time we sang. After we finished one of the counselors told me I looked a lot like her dad. It kinda shook me up.
The next year we traveled to the Thompson Center retirement home. We start singing and one of the ladies grabbed my arm. Then she asked me, "What's my name?". Well, I didn't know her name. She asked me again, and again, and again, each time getting louder and more forceful. Finally a worker pryed her fingers from my arm and calmed her. I never did get her name but I didn't go back either.
If someone comes to your house to sing carols, Know this, It aint me.
Sad to say but I haven't been Christmas caroling since.