I don't know what your Christmas was like, if you celebrate it, but I hope it was happy. I have reassessed my vocal "there is no Santa" policy following my receipt, on Christmas morning, of only a roll of Scotch tape and forty-three cents in assorted change, wrapped in a Zip-Loc bag. It would seem that someone has heard my scoffing and reacted accordingly. Counting the coins provided just the activity I needed to sustain my spirits while all around me people oohed and aahed, tearing open boxes containing polo ponies and engraved cutlery from Neiman-Marcus. I like luxury as much as the next girl, but perhaps the penury of this year's gift is a sign that it's time to concentrate on more important things, like the needy and the friendless and the unattractive and the seedy.

I returned to the boat jingling my bag of change, thinking about ways that I could make a significant difference in the lives of those less fortunate than I. I turned on the Christmas lights that run up the mast, and in their subtle glow, reflected on the year past while I sipped the champagne I'd decided against taking to my family gathering.

There under the lights, I realized that I want to do something big next year, something special. Something to reach out to the lonely and unarmed, to bring them warmth and light during the holidays. Something that will bring happiness to them, and recognition to me, for all my efforts. Because really, I have had enough of hiding my light under a barrel, or however that saying goes.

The first idea I had, which is also the best (and only) idea, is this:

Recorders Without Borders

What better way to incorporate those whom society has cast aside, than through the beauty of the music of the Renaissance? I plan to educate those less fortunate than I in the joys of the recorder�that woodwind instrument beloved by third-graders everywhere, simple yet elegant, and especially suited to the music of the yuletide season.

I do not technically know how to play the recorder�my one attempt (sadly, in public) ended in an embarrassing failure remembered to this day by attendees of the Walter J. Paton Middle School Holiday Spectacular. But as the saying goes, �Those who can�t do, teach.� Under those guidelines, and with the help of Wikipedia, I am amply qualified to instruct others on the use of the recorder. I plan to skip over all the boring �facts� about the history of the instrument, and concentrate on the sense of community that can be attained through music. A cursory glance at available sheet music for recorders proved boring, and I think that the sense of unity among the musicians will be increased by playing songs everyone knows and presumably loves. For example, our concert program will feature the advertising jingle used by Fab detergent, the one with the lyrics:

Oh, Fab, I�m glad
There�s lemon-scented Borax in you!

And like that.

Recorders Without Borders will welcome all levels of player, from novice to intermediate, and in my dream, we will practice three times a week, reserving performances for prime shopping hours, when we will stroll throughout the downtown area. I say �we,� but I envision letting go the reins of my traveling musicians, and allowing them to roam free and return to the practice space at the end of the night. I will wait there, savoring the joy they bring to listeners, for any cash donations they might collect. All proceeds will be used for publicity, and to fund future performances and/or instrument repair.

This is just one idea of a way I can truly make a difference, but I trust it will pave the way for many more.

It only takes a spark to get the fire going.

Star of the day. . .S�o Schlumberger