The Christmas Play. My Singing Debut - Dr. Ed Iannuccilli

The Christmas Play. My Singing Debut - Dr. Ed Iannuccilli

Paper snowflakes and dancing snowmen with interlocking hands splashed across the classroom windows. 1951 was the year of my singing debut in the Christmas spectacle at our elementary school.

“Edward, you will be one of the three kings singing at the assembly.” Oh, no. I’ll be ruined, doomed to singing purgatory where notes fly to the worst place imaginable, snickering kids.

"Here, Edward. Put this on your head. And wrap this around your shoulders." I snugged the gold cardboard hat with peaks and two gold tails that draped down my back. I was a King, standing tall until I shouldered the long purple robe and stumbled like Dopey of the Seven Dwarfs. 

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“Oh, and here. Don’t forget these. The stick is your scepter. In the box is your gift, frankincense, for the Baby Jesus.” I shook the box. Frankincense weighed next to nothing.

Curved rims of ice adorned the corners of  the cloudy plate glass windows high above.  A gray-white sky suggested snow. I was daydreaming, “We’ll have a white Christmas,” when I was stunned by the clang of the bell.

The doors flew open and a booming buzz buckled the room as frantic kids tromped in, bumping into the rows, smashing their folding seats and plopping down with excitement bordering on frenzy. The decibel count was out of sight.

The roar dipped to silence when the principal raised her hand. Scowling teachers tapped shoulders.

To the stage’s rear was the nativity scene where Joseph, who was playing Joseph, was dressed in a plain brown cloth. He had an enviable silent part. Joanie, draped in blue, was Mary. She too was silent. Kids in cow and sheep costumes were motionless.

“OK, Kings to the front.” A note rang from the piano. "OK, boys. Ready."

We tilted toward the Baby Jesus. A whisper. “Edward, hold up your gift.” With the skill of a circus performer, I shuffled my feet,  balanced the scepter and raised the gift. The music teacher, her hand held high, paused, and then flicked her wrist. Roland’s booming voice covered me in the chorus.

My solo was imminent. The cloak shielded my knocking knees. Then, something changed! My knees were now swinging to the beat of the piano. I became Melchior the singer, confident, capable.

Rising to my toes and feeling like a King, I huffed, “Born a King on Bethlehem's plain.” The notes flowed like honey and  floated over the crowd.

A whisper. “The gift Edward, the gift!”  Oh yeah, the gift. I turned, sauntered to the manger, and with a slight flex, lowered the gift, ever so slowly, to the Baby Jesus. I glanced over my shoulder. The crowd had to love it.

My majestic role was over. Santa rang a bell. “Merr-ry Christtt . . . mus.” A war whoop sprung from the crowd. I bounded down the stairs, ran to the dressing room, tossed the crown and robe into the pile, and out I exploded to a crisp day and a crystal sky.

Christmas was in the air.

Dr. Ed Iannuccilli is the author of three popular memoirs, “Growing up Italian; Grandfather’s Fig Tree and Other Stories”, “What Ever Happened to Sunday Dinner” and “My Story Continues: From Neighborhood to Junior High.”  Learn more here.