One year at Christmastime, our family had all the neighborhood children over to our house one evening. We drank hot chocolate and then walked outside and around our neighborhood singing Christmas carols. We were led by my father who was a musician and a school teacher. He played the trumpet and taught trumpet lessons, so my brothers who had learned trumpet from him and 1 or 2 of the neighborhood boys who also learned to play the trumpet from him came along and played the music to accompany the singers. We stopped in front of every house just as people have done in other places, and if the people who lived there were home, they would open the front door and listen. We were in southern California where it does not get very cold, so standing in the doorway was easy to do. I always loved to sing, but this time was very special. My father died 30 years ago now, but whenever I sing Christmas carols or hear a trumpet playing, I think of him.