Back in 1968, I was four years old. My recollection of that year would prove to be the very first solid memories of my life. Because the years have worn by and so many moments of time have past I can firmly attest with reckless abandon I remember Christmas time in Cleveland.

My mother loved music. Her old 45s from the 50’s that she would pull out every Saturday to clean the house, somehow managed to get her so fired up she would jitterbug with the vacuum. Watching her as a child I thought she was nuts. After a long work week and listening to my grandmother’s report about what mischief I was able to get into I guess she needed her fast moving music with a solid beat that she could dance to.

During the holiday season many people around us enjoyed the masterful choir orchestration of Handel’s Messiah…