The holidays are approaching and soon the Christmas movies will begin. I only mention this because the decorations in the stores have been up since July 5th, and it’s easy to lose track of the actual calendar.
No matter how many times I’ve seen it (50?), I’ll watch Irving Berlin’s White Christmas at some point over the upcoming weeks. Miracle on 34th Street, when Natalie Wood was demonstrating her star quality at an early age, is another 
classic. I love that one. The Bishop’s Wife, starring Cary Grant is considered a Christmas Movie. The film, A Christmas Carol, released in 1951 and starring Alistair Sim as Scrooge is one of the best film adaptations of Charles Dickens’ novella, but my favorite by only a smidgen is the 1970 version starring George C. Scott as old Ebenezer and David Warner as Bob Cratchet. And Frank Capra’s It’s A Wonderful Life may be the definitive Christmas movie.
When we were kids, we had some pretty cool animated shows. I think Rankin/Bass’ Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer debuted in 1964 and became an instant classic. And there was the telling of Santa’s backstory in Santa Claus is Coming to Town with the voice of Mickey Rooney as Kris Kringle and narrated by Fred Astaire as the postman. And, from the same time frame, A Charlie Brown Christmas was an immediate classic and spawned a whole slew of other-holiday-themed shows from Charles Shultz.
Baby It’s Cold Outside
There are more modern films, too; a few of which have become instant classics. And there are plenty which air on Hallmark that have the same premise (frazzled New York businesswoman returning to her 
small hometown and finding magical-Christmas-sprinkled love). But there are some newer films that are pretty good. I like The Santa Clause series and I smile every time I think of Will Farrell in Elf. The scene where he runs headlong into the lockers in the employee restrooms and the one when he gets flipped in the air when he gets hit by a taxi made my eldest granddaughter laugh heartily when she was quite young. It’s a nearly indescribable joy to be with happy grandkids. And for me, there are two songs sung by Zoey Deschanel, so there’s that.
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People either love or hate Love Actually. Perhaps it’s a bit schmaltzy, but I’m one of the ones who like it. National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation has lines of dialogue which find themselves being repeated in homes around the country during the holidays. There’s a twisted retelling of a holiday classic with Bill Murray in Scrooged. I think that one’s fun; a very inventive modernization of the story. Home Alone is set during the holidays but I’m not quite sure if it’s actually a Christmas movie. Same with Die Hard. It’s set during the holidays, but appears to be more focused on machine guns, grenades and tossing bad guys off the Nakatomi Plaza than your more traditional Christmas movies. But, wait. Did Jimmy Stewart do that in The Shop Around the Corner?
One of the more recent ones which really struck a chord—make that several chords—with me is A Christmas Story. First of all, it’s a nostalgia-soaked glimpse back into the days of my youth and the all-
encompassing thrill of Christmas’ approach. Next, there’s Ralphie’s obsession with getting A Red Ryder Carbine Action 200-shot Range Model air rifle. I remember a similar overwhelming desire for a Daisy BB rifle. I think I may have received it as a birthday present instead of for Christmas like Ralphie, but it’s been nearly a half-century since, so the details have faded. I do remember my father instilling in me a respect for gun safety: Always assume it’s loaded, never point it at anything you don’t intend to shoot, etc.
The first time I saw this movie the phrase, “You’ll shoot your eye out!” immediately stood out and swept over me. Only it wasn’t my eye. Luckily it was my lip. And I didn’t shoot it but I still thought I’d be in trouble.
Hitting the Broad Side of a Barn
I lived in a very rural area and was at another child’s summertime birthday party somewhere across town. One of the party games was to shoot a target taped to the side of the barn. As boys do, we were jostling around the firing line and I remember thinking that there was more pushing and shoving than should be happening around a loaded gun, albeit a BB gun. My father’s lessons were deeply embedded in my tiny brain, so I took a few steps back from the firing line where the other boys jockeyed for a better view. I moved to a spot behind the shooter and sort of leaned to my right so I could see the shots hit. The very next shot hit the barn and bounced almost straight back and hit my upper lip, right in the center immediately below my nose. Ow!
The odd thing is that I saw the copper BB in its entire aeronautical journey. It’s pretty hard to see a BB in flight and maybe it helped that I was standing directly behind the shooter so the BB wasn’t going past me but remained in my field of vision for its entire trip. Anyway, this 
gleaming sphere glinted in the sun like a beacon during its entire voyage to the barn and back to my lip. It happened so fast that I didn’t have time to react. I just stood there, marveling that I could see the BB. Then, Bang! Snap! Ow! My moment of awe turned to stunned and painful confusion. My hand immediately went to my lip, expecting to find there an embedded BB. But there was none, nor was there any blood. I checked for blood a few times and was relieved that the skin was unbroken. It was still a bit painful but I was relieved.
Next I was awash with the thought that my father was going to be furious with me for getting shot. Panic welled within as I raced through his gun-safety lessons. Was there anything about standing behind a shooter? No! That was the safest place! When the boy’s mother first announced the game, I felt a thrill of possibility that I might score well; especially since I had practiced with my own rifle. But when my turn came, I was still emotionally shaken up and I was lucky to have barely hit an outer ring. Even more than the slight pain on my lip, was the growing fear about my father’s impending anger and/or punishment.
So I never told him about it. I’ve kept that to myself for the last 50 years. But, no matter how much I love A Christmas Story—even when Turner shows it for 24 hours on Christmas Eve—each time I see it, I still get a twinge on my upper lip, below my nose.
Have I forgotten your favorite holiday movie? Let me know!
