A Charlie Brown Christmas

Tonight Tori and I rushed through dinner so we could run upstairs and watch "A Charlie Brown Christmas." Our appreciation for it was not shared by anyone else on our floor, but for that half an hour Tori and I sat transfixed, even though we knew all the lines (and their weird inflections caused by 1960s sound technology) by heart.
James Lileks describes its power the best:
[It] accomplished something rare: It set the mood for several generations not by jangling the jingle bells or sprinkling fa-la-las over a sappy arrangement. It used a simple jazz trio to sum up everything a kid feels about Chrismas--the alternating moods of peace and anticipation, excitement and contentment, the sacred and the ordinary. Everyone under 60 goes soft when they hear the "Peanuts sountrack," be it the wintry bliss of "Skating" or Vince Guaraldi's version of "The Christmas Song." There's no reason "Linus and Lucy" should be a Christmas song, but there's no way it will ever be separated from the season.
What makes the music last long after you're grown is something you sensed when you were a kid, a wistful tone that almost makes you sad to say goodbye to a Christmas not yet come. As an adult, you hear the sadness between the notes, the sense of loss for the Christmases of childhood. But the notes themselves are cheerful and offhandedly wise. As a kid you leaned forward into that mood; as an adult you look back to find it. And you meet right there, in the opening notes of each song.