Not the Stile Nacht I grew up with for sure.

Christmas Eve in Lindenwold, NJ brings not a sweet evening of magic and mystery of my youth but instead, the drunken shouts of a wild posse of Hispanic's.

Buddies and room-mates, they are playing cards on their back porch, cursing, shouting into the night and to each other.  Loud music. Two doors down from my world, they create a rather bizarre backdrop for this usually somber, magical and beautiful evening.

The heavy bass from their insanely amped-up stereo invades my Christmas world, and I look at the stark winter trees against the December moon and wonder where it all went.