The boy who sang Christmas carols in May......

That's the only thing I remember about him now.

It was a warm night in May, with the sky so full of stars and the moon so bright that gazing at the sky through a telescope took your breath away. School had just ended -- our sophomore year of high school -- and there was a gaggle of us girls at a spend-the-night party.

It was a night of innocence. No beer, no drugs, just a time to relish the fact that school was over for a few weeks. Sure there was a war going on and it was heating up. Even in our protected cocoon, our state of blissful ignorance, we were aware that things were changing.

But that night, Vietnam was far from our minds. That night was for nothing but silliness, utter and complete silliness. That night was for watching horror movies by candle light, dancing under those sparkling stars, ordering pizzas with the works -- knowing they would be delivered by the soon-to-be steady boyfriend of one of us, eating chocolate -- far to much soft, melting chocolate, laughing till we couldn't breathe, and making plans for the rest of our lives.

And on that warm, starry night in May, for some reason, he gathered together a group of guys, and they came caroling.

I don't remember which of us girls heard them first. I don't remember exactly what we were doing, but I imagine looks of bewilderment must have spread across our faces as we, one by one, started hearing strands of "Jingle Bells" being sung outside.

Bewilderment that turned to smiles as we recognized that we were hearing Christmas carols that warm, starry May night. Smiles that widened to delicious laughter as we looked out the upstairs window and realized that the caroling was for us!

I felt as I imagine Juliet might have felt looking down at her Romeo, except -- we were in our shorty pajamas, and our Romeos below were buddies -- complete with guitars and tattered Santa hats and beards......far from being lovers.

I've wondered through the years if he could have had any inkling that that kooky Christmas celebration of his on that warm, starry May night would be his last. By summer he had enlisted, and by Christmas he was dead.

All my children know of the boy who sang Christmas carols in May. I hope it helps keep his memory alive.

Next week, another boy -- this time a boy my daughter went to high school with -- will be buried. Killed in another war. I hope he had a chance to do something so wonderfully absurd as singing Christmas carols in May.