That old Nat King Cole record was what we played every Christmas Eve while decorating the tree. I only have to hear the schmaltzy strings that open the first song, and suddenly I’m 12 and hanging disintegrating popsicle-stick ornaments on the bottom of the tree.
That old Nat King Cole record was what we played every Christmas Eve while decorating the tree. I only have to hear the schmaltzy strings that open the first song, and suddenly I’m 12 and hanging disintegrating popsicle-stick ornaments on the bottom of the tree.