 You know, every Christmas, my kids, Linda and Tony and Nora and Kelly, throw it in my teeth. Daddy, why can't you sing like Mr. Crosby? Very gracious of you, Robert. But when Gary, Dennis, Philip, and Lindsay gather to sing the carols, I want to tell you, I'm just the fifth in the foursome. Besides, on Christmas Eve, the gang discuss matters of far greater importance than Daddy's music. And don't we all. You know, on Christmas Eve, our thoughts and our thanks go out to the mothers and dads of more than 300,000 young men.