You can't own a mountain any more than you can own an ocean or a piece of the sky...

You hold it in trust. You live on it, you take life from it, and once you're dead, you rest in it.

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The Homecoming: A Christmas Story (CBS,1971)

It’s Christmas Eve ‘33 in the Virginia Mountains. The Walton’s await their father whose return is threatened by a worsening snowstorm. John-boy sets out to find his father and in the course of the journey discovers something of the nature of his dad. When his father finally returns, he brings a special gift for his son that reveals an unexpected understanding of the dreams and aspirations that one day will lead John-boy far from the mountain.

Graceful yet harder-edged than the subsequent TV series (which ran for nine years), The Homecoming reveals much about the importance of family, of faith, and the strength and closeness that comes through sharing and enduring hardship.

“Christmas is the season where we give tokens of love. In that house we received not tokens but love itself. I became the writer I promised my father I would be - and my destiny lead me far from Walton's Mountain. My mother lives there still, alone now for we lost my father in 1969. My brothers and sisters, grown with children of their own, live not far away. We are still a close family and see each other when we can. And like Miss Maime Baldwin's fourth cousins, we're apt to sample the recipe and then gather around the piano and hug each other while we sing the old songs. For no matter the time or distance, we are united in the memory of that Christmas Eve. More than 30 years and 3,000 miles away, I can still hear those sweet voices.”
Earl Hamner, Jr.

resources

Read Earl Hamner’s wonderful novel...

It’s a sad fact but it’s been YEARS since I’ve seen this on TV, and I honestly can’t figure why it’s failed to become a classic – you might check your local listings, but you probably won’t find it…however, you can order a copy here...

and you can watch the trailer for it right here…

endless drawings, countless sketches on my windowpanes...

Waterson:Carthy

Holy Heathens and the Old Green Man

Topic Records (2006)

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Waterson:Carthy – their music is unrepentantly traditional. Folks who prefer their Christmas songs to have a rustic, handmade feel to them will enjoy Holy Heathens and the Old Green Man immensely. Given how the same Christmas songs tend to get played over and over again starting earlier and earlier every year, it’s wonderfully refreshing to find that Waterson:Carthy were able to breathe some life into what can sometimes be a stagnant genre – and they do it, ironically, by resurrecting some material that’s even older than many of the seasonal songs with which we’re so familiar.

Now understand, this is not JUST a Christmas album. Yes, most of the songs have a yuletide flavour, some others are hymns sung at Christmas or New Year, but there are songs on here from all year round and it would be more accurate to describe this as a festive, celebratory album. Joining Waterson:Carthy for this festive album are folk trio The Devil's Interval and a number of tracks are further bolstered by the inclusion of some brass and cello. Overall, these additions give this disc a wonderfully full rousing sound, a little added depth and a more formal choral quality than is found on most Waterson:Carthy offerings.

The opening track “Residue” (a New Year’s carol), sets the albums tone with authority. A wonderful, rousing, cheery number with a full chorus sung with gusto and good cheer –you just know this is going to be a great album! As ever with Waterson:Carthy, Martin Carthy’s booklet notes give you fascinating insight into the songs and their sources – I wish someone would publish all of Martin’s anecdotes in a collected volume…maybe someday.

There are plenty of highlights: “Reap, Hook and Sickle” with its name check for Waterson:Carthy’s home of Robin Hood’s Bay; “On Christmas Day It Happened So” –Tim Van Eyken at his melancholy vocal best; “Gloryland” –the final track, a beautiful Baptist hymn.
However, none of these come anywhere close to eclipsing “Jack Frost” (written by Mike Waterson and sung by Eliza Carthy).

It will stop you in your tracks.

It will make the hairs on your neck stand on end.

It will, like Jack Frost himself send shivers down your spine.

Repeat. Play. Repeat. Play.

The long winter nights will just fly on by.

Try a touch of Jack Frost.

jack frost

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buy it

giant robots make me nervous, sometimes

Welcome to the spot in blogland that was once known as "giant robots make me nervous, sometimes." Apparently, Google had been telling me for months that support for my template was about to end and that I needed to update, but their warnings sat unread in my junk folder until one day a few weeks ago - poof! it was all gone...and so I start again.

Honestly, I'm glad for the chance to reboot, as the place had begun to turn into a standard book blog and that was never my intent or desire. Over the coming months, I'll repost some of my favorites essays from the old days (let me know if there's anything in particular that you'd like to see), but I plan on mostly writing about the things that are currently bouncing around in my head - you have been warned.

...oh, and in case you were wondering about the new title, it comes from a phrase etched into the run-out groove on the Smith's single for "William, It Was Really Nothing." I had planned on using it as the title of an upcoming essay about the band, but I was kinda stuck for a new name and so here we are...