-- by Mike Murray

I found them approximately twenty years ago, in a shop devoted exclusively to Christmas paraphernalia. My discovery of the store was purely serendipitous. Because I had (in atypical fashion) completed my holiday shopping early, and so was simply strolling through the mall, taking in the festive sights and sounds.

One storefront's display was especially intriguing, however, and drew me inside. The shelves were stocked with wonderfully exotic items. And wafting through the air was the crystal-clear sound of perfectly pitched bells -- beautifully striking out carols, religious and secular.

A clerk directed me to the source: a string of bells of assorted sizes, wired to each other and to a control box. A computer chip guided the movements of electromagnets that were housed inside the bells, and that operated their strikers. Working in concert, they produced a variety of melodies.

Although each of the items on my Christmas list had already been checked off, I decided to buy the bells. I wrapped them as a present and gave them to my wife. But, really, they were a gift for both of us. Many ensuing December evenings were spent in the comfort of our living room, the soft glow of the fireplace and the soothing sound of the bells washing away tensions of the day.

A few years later, we moved to a different residence -- and the bells became a gift to the neighborhood. Our new home had an attached garage that faced the street. I positioned the bells inside it, behind the gable opening (so that they could be heard by pedestrian passersby).

The bells introduced me to many new acquaintances. Among them was a postal carrier, Steve, with whom I struck a fast friendship. Another was a woman who was walking with her children. She held one youngster by the hand and pushed another in a stroller. As I stood on a ladder while hanging Christmas ornaments, a voice from behind me announced: "I look forward to hearing your decorations again this year."

The bells that had so pleased my wife and me in previous years thereafter connected us to our new community. They became our small contribution, an audible supplement to the beautiful Christmas displays offered by our neighbors.

But, after a decade and a half of service, the bells "gave up the ghost." One day, they simply stopped working. Attempts to replace them proved fruitless. The bells were foreign-made (in Germany, I believe), and the store from which I bought them had long-since vacated the mall. Even Internet searches came up empty.

In subsequent seasons, I auditioned alternatives. A boom box, loaded with holiday CDs. Songs recorded by children. Instrumentals of sundry sorts and arrangements . But nothing really worked. It just wasn't the same.

Reluctantly, I reconciled myself to the notion that the bells would have to be consigned to the pleasant past. Nothing more than a warm memory. Still, I didn't part with them. Although they were non-working, I kept the bells hanging in the garage. Just looking at them provided pleasure.

When Steve (our former mail carrier) returned to our route, he inquired about the bells. After hearing of their fate, he offered some suggestions for their replacement. I was skeptical, but I promised to try -- again -- to find a suitable substitute. Months of searching ended in failure. Still, I retained a flicker of hope.

And then one day, I found them online: A set of bells that play holiday carols. They are not, truly, functioning instruments, as were the originals. Instead, they emit pre-recorded melodies through speakers housed inside a string of bell-shaped ornaments. There was no way, in advance, to determine their sound quality. Nevertheless, I took a chance and placed an order.

I anxiously awaited the bells' delivery, much as a kid anticipates the arrival of Old Saint Nick. When the UPS driver showed up with the prized package, I wasted no time opening it. And I was delighted to learn that the bells sound pretty darned good. They produce thirty melodies, a secular and religious assortment, much as did the originals.

The new bells are now hanging inside the garage, behind the gable opening. A timer turns them on each morning and off each evening. Throughout the day, they serenade all who pass by. The original bells adorn the outside of the garage -- and serve as seasonal decorations. Together, they form a bridge between Christmas past and Christmas present.

Thomas Wolfe famously wrote that "you can't go home again." Too often, that proves to be the case. But every now and then, a chance to connect the here and now with the nostalgic past presents itself. When such a moment arrives, it represents an opportunity -- a precious gift, if properly appreciated.

Pam and I gratefully and humbly accept the gift of the bells. And we wish for others similar blessings during this holiday season.

Copyright ©2010 Michael F. Murray -- All rights reserved.