‘Jimmy Dunne Says’

‘Saying Hello to Christmas’

When I got home after working late in a studio, I peeked in our bedroom. My wife Catherine (and Louis our dog) were long-gone asleep.

I turned off the lights around our place heading to bed. With an astounding scent like nothing else in the world—I knew Catherine must have gotten a Christmas tree earlier in the day.

There it was in our living room. The crescent of a Palisades winter moon was sneaking a spotlight on our tree. There’s something absolutely stunning about a bare tree.

I found myself just standing there in the dark. In the quiet of that room. In the stillness.

I felt like I was welcoming the tree into our home. Into our family.

And I imagined how that tree is going to be blanketed with lights, ornaments and garland.

How the girls would be stopping by over the next few nights, as they always do, to help us put the lights up and ornaments on.

Every year it’s sort of the same drill with my wife. With Christmas music playing, after Catherine and I wrap the tree with lights, she tells the girls and me how we’re going to keep it simple this year—and just put on the “pretty” ornaments.

After we put up the “pretty” ornaments, the four of us can’t help adding on all our favorites from way-back-when that we can’t imagine it wouldn’t be on the tree.

They’re every color, shape and size; some the girls made, some Catherine and I made as kids, some with little pictures, with drawings, of places, you name it.

Next thing you know, it’s just stuffed with them—and you can barely even find those “pretty” ones.

The truth is, I’d throw out just about anything before our family’s Christmas ornaments. They don’t mean anything to anybody but us, but they sure mean a lot to us.

And when we find another one of our gems tucked away in the ornament box, we kind of “shine it up” a bit before we give it a special branch on the tree. Kind of our way of saying we’re glad to see it again.

And, in that little moment of hanging it up there, each one of us is pulled back to the memories of that ornament.

It’s a story of our friends. Of our places. Of our passions. Of what we share together.

It’s kind of a biography of a family—right there on the tree.

It’s a funny word when you think about it. Ornament. Makes ’em sound kind of unimportant.  Who wants to be an ornament?

Doors. Doors that walk us into the stories of our lives and our dreams. I like that better.

And then I did what I’ve always done on each night of the Christmas season.

Before heading to bed, I put the end of a branch between my palms—and rub the scent of our tree on my hands.

And in my hands is everything beautiful that I’ve ever, ever known.

In that moment, in that quiet moment—I give thanks to Christmas.

To the privilege of family. To the gift of dearest friends. And to being right where I am.

May you find in your tree, or your menorah, or in your special place—that door …

To the wonder, the amazing wonder of it all.

Jimmy Dunne is modern-day Renaissance Man; a hit songwriter (28 million hit records), screenwriter/ producer of hit television series, award-winning author, an entrepreneur—and a Palisadian “Citizen of the Year.” You can reach him at j@jimmydunne.com.