It was in every one of my relatives’ homes, a constant in otherwise very diverse record collections. It’s one of the first albums that comes up in the Christmas Apple playlists. Bing’s versions of White Christmas and Silent Night nestle among more contemporary tunes and artists in malls and restaurants throughout the holiday season.

The album is a mix of Christmas hymns and secular holiday songs; I’ve known every word of every song for well over fifty years – something I can’t say about many albums. Each time I listen to it, some memory of past holidays surfaces – my aunt making fruit compote, my grandfather drinking tea out of his saucer, going outside after decorating the tree to see it twinkle in my grandmother’s bay window, decorating a tree with friends in my Dover apartment. It is an auditory touchstone.

Is it the only or best Christmas album I own? No. Is it the most important as far as what it has added to my approach to the Nativity? Yes. It has been part of the soundtrack of my life as far back as I can remember, and I suspect it will continue to be so – even if and when memory fails.