The Swan Song of the Christmas Carol

As William Shakespeare wrote, “Farewell! Thou art too dear for my possessing.”

That’s the realization I’m coming to as it concerns any public mention (outside the church) of Jesus, or any song that even hints at His existence.

To be perfectly honest, I was naive enough to think my town was safe from the politically correct bandwagon that has been running over ”Christmas” until it looks like ”holidays,” at least for the time being, but on Monday night I could hear the engines approaching and the band tuning up to do some PC fiddling.

My daughter was singing with her school choir in the auditorium. Yes, it was still billed as a “Christmas concert.” Fortunately, I live in a city that is still, for the most part, about 40 years behind the curve as far as embracing political correctness goes.

My little town here in Michigan, in personal comparison to much larger cities I’ve been in, makes Mayberry look like New Jack City. Some days you can almost hear brush sounds from on high as Norman Rockwell busies himself putting this place to canvas. 

People here still wave at each other when their cars pass on the road and, for the most part, know each others names and the names of their kids. When we say “labs” we’re talking about dogs and not meth. There seems to be one church for every four residents. The police drive around giving out suckers on Halloween. There’s a real sense of community — if somebody’s sick and has no money, there’s a collection jar at every place of business. Ditto for kids raising money for their high school trip. People still even go Christmas caroling at times without being handed a temporary court order in response to Michael Newdow’s lawsuit to end the caroling and, just for good measure, re-title “Touched by an Angel” reruns as “Groped by a Figment of Your Imagination.”

Yes, off in the distance, a few hundred yards and down a hill from the window I sit in front of at this moment, is Interstate 96 — a constant reminder that the “real world” is just a stone’s throw away. I have a feeling that world will soon be visiting as it pertains to the area of the Christmas concert I mentioned a little while ago. Why? Well, there are three exits into our town off that Interstate, literally, and, unfortunately, figuratively.

Before the kids sang their final Christmas song, the choir director announced that she was retiring, and then said something that brought me to the realization I’m writing about today: She thanked the audience for allowing the kids to sing songs about Christmas and Jesus.

I repeat: She thanked the audience for allowing the kids to sing songs about Christmas and Jesus.

True, it’s nice that we can still do those things here, but this statement hit me like a bag filled with a ton of bricks and Rosie O’Donnell. There was a reason the choir director said this, and it’s most certainly not because she’s so happy that the trend is catching on everywhere. She seemed almost resigned to the fact that this wouldn’t be happening much longer. The emotion in her voice and expression on her face was one of frustrated and somewhat depressed resignation — one that I only imagine can be replicated by Ted Kennedy after hearing “last call.” 

Somehow I knew that we were witnessing the Swan Song of the Christmas Carol in our town.

Sure, the kids can still sing those songs, and they probably will next year, depending upon who the new choir director is, but when one is genuinely appreciative for still being “allowed” to sing Christmas songs, there’s trouble on the non-secular horizon.

I guess I should count our blessings while they last, but as I sit here looking at that highway off in the distance, I can see the big trucks from the “PC Moving Company” rolling toward the off-ramp, where they’ll careen downhill, lose control as they always do, and spill their contents all over our formerly nice little town.

The choir director can hear them coming, and now I can too. 

One of these years, the kids will be singing “The Twelve Days of Christmas” and the song is going to end with the ACLU maids a-milking a dozen lawsuits.


Quick note for all my readers in Ireland (all one of you): At 12:45 p.m. eastern time, 5:45 p.m. Ireland time, I’ll be on the Scott Williams radio show on Q-102 in Dublin to talk about… well, I don’t really know, but it should be entertaining. If all else fails we’ll discuss my Irish heritage and put everybody to sleep at the wheel.


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Author: Doug Powers

Doug Powers is a writer, editor and commentator covering news of the day from a conservative viewpoint with an occasional shot of irreverence and a chaser of snark. Townhall Media writer/editor. alum. Bowling novice. Long-suffering Detroit Lions fan. Contact: