I don’t remember what prompted me to bring up a Christmas song in September, but I’ll never forget the look on my husband’s face when I raised the subject of “Dominick the Donkey (The Italian Christmas Donkey).” A joyless, blank stare. “Dominick the Donkey,” I repeat emphatically, the way Samwise Gamjee says “po-tay-toes” in The Lord of the Rings. A tone that says “Did I stutter?”

“What are you talking about?” he replies. “You know!” I’m growing simultaneously certain and frantic. “Jingity-jing- HEE-HAW! HEE-HAW!” “The Italian Christmas Donkey!” “Lou Monte!” Nothing. Just those same dead eyes without so much as a glimmer of recognition. Slowly it dawns on me in a heady blend of humor and horror. “Is this just an Italian thing?”