I'm used to celebrating warm Christmases. After all, for 29 consecutive years, I spent Christmas day in the American South - specifically in Florida, Georgia, or (I think maybe once or twice) in South Carolina. It was possible for Christmas to be cold in Georgia, but not that cold, and in Florida, a cold Christmas was rare at best. I never dreamt of a white Christmas, I never heard sleigh bells in the snow, I never roasted chestnuts on an open fire, and I certainly never understood why any old man would wear such a thick fur-lined velvet suit in a Florida mall. I remember that it dipped below freezing one year on Christmas and we ran the garden hose over the deck the night before to make icicles. That happened once. I remember several years when the neighborhood kids quit playing outside with our new toys because it was too hot and went swimming instead. I suppose that to some that wouldn't seem like Christmas, but it does to me - that was Christmas in the South.