There are many ways to observe the birth of Jesus--tree lightings, chats with Santa, trips to Dyker Heights, etc. But may I suggest: Kristin Chenoweth?
I've had few major romantic relationships in my life, but each has involved Kristin. My first partner--before I came out of the closet--took me to the Hamptons to see Kristin in concert. I think we sat behind Ralph Lauren, if he was still alive? Kristin said, "I'm going to perform a little ditty from a show I'm working on, about the witches of Oz. We'll see what happens." I realize none of this is normal--did I wipe tears from my eyes?--but I swear it did occur. At one point, I was a young "straight" man, on a "Kristin Chenoweth" date somewhere near Sag Harbor.
Years passed, and, having faced the facts, I found myself entangled with someone of my own gender. These were the "Glee" years. We listened obsessively to Kristin's performance of "Alone," and we visited, and revisited, a favorite story from an actor-friend. This guy had been on a TV set with Kristin, and she allegedly announced that one specific minion would trail her, at all times, to reapply (and rub in) a preferred brand of moisturizing cream--reapply this cream to Kristin's (important and wonderfully unfettered) hands. Who knows if this was true? But it became a bit of folklore for me, like the Nativity story itself.
Now, I'm married, and throughout December, I require that my spouse sit with me, each day, to watch Kristin's performance of "O Holy Night." Marc tries to explain this event to our daughter. "Kristin is significant to your papa. She is an angel. She rescues little children from bad men in Oklahoma...." (This is a reference to Kristin's disastrous history with the "true crime" genre.) Years ago, Marc took me to Kristin's solo Broadway performance, "For the Girls," and perhaps the title worked for some people, but I thought Kristin had misfired. A better title may have been: "For the Girls--and Daniel Barrett."
I'm leaving you with Kristin, this holiday season. I'm truly blessed.
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