You can tell a lot about a person by their feelings on the classic movie, White Christmas. {Mostly whether they’re an elf or a scrooge, but I try not to judge…} Even my use of the adjective “classic” is a dead giveaway and implies a certain head shake toward anyone who might go for another descriptor, say, cloying or omnipresent. My adoration for the movie is well-documented in my Google search history. There has been at least one deep dive into both Wikipedia and IMDB for interesting morsels surrounding this film, none of which are as cool as the fact that my aunt once spent a lovely evening in a night club where a young Rosemary Clooney was the singer.