When I was in seventh grade, playing in the Jordan Middle School jazz band’s winter concert, I had my very first trumpet solo: eight bars, in the middle of “(Have Yourself a) Merry Little Christmas.”

Last year, a few months into learning to play the piano, December rolled around.  And though I was only about a third of the way through my method book, I paged to the back, and discovered an arrangement of the same song.  It was still well above my level, but, for a week or two, I puzzled it out, one bar at a time.  After which, though still a bit halting and uneven, I could actually play a version roughly good enough to serve as background holiday music in a restaurant or bar.

So, at least for that song, I have a reasonable basis for attachment.  But, despite being Jewish, it turns out I just really love Christmas music in general.  Admittedly, I don’t really have much choice when it comes to holiday listening – the limited array of Chanukah tunes doesn’t really measure up.  And I take some solace in the fact that the large majority of Christmas hits were actually penned by Jewish songwriters.

But, even so, it’s not really my music.  And yet, each year, I feel like it is.  By now, much as twinkle lights (which I also kind of love) feel to me far divorced from any religious origins or undertones, most Christmas music seems to me just sort of free-standing, end-of-year, dark-days-of-winter music.  Which, Jewish or not, seems perfectly fine for me to enjoy.  Or maybe that’s just a rationalization I’m selling myself.  Still, I’m selling it to myself either way.  Because, as I do every December, I’ll be spending the next month playing the grooves off of the Charlie Brown Christmas Album, any number of Canadian Brass albums of carols, and pretty much every cheesy pop Christmas playlist I can find.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas, indeed.