It is Christmas Eve. Or maybe it’s just a random Tuesday in July and you’re feeling like a total outcast. You know the feeling. That specific, hollow ache of being the "misfit" in a room full of people who seem to have it all figured out. For millions of us, that feeling is inextricably linked to a high-pitched, gentle melody from 1964. We’re talking about There’s Always Tomorrow, the standout ballad from the Rankin/Bass stop-motion classic, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.
Most holiday specials have upbeat jingles about sleigh rides or decorations. This one? It’s basically a therapy session set to music.
Johnny Marks wrote it. You might recognize the name because the guy was a songwriting machine, responsible for "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree" and "A Holly Jolly Christmas." But while those tracks are built for department store speakers and suburban parties, There’s Always Tomorrow is different. It’s quiet. It’s heavy. It’s the musical personification of a pat on the shoulder when you’ve hit rock bottom.
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The Voice Behind the Hope
Janet Orenstein (performing as the voice of Clarice) is the reason this song sticks. Her delivery isn't overproduced. It isn't "pop." It’s pure, earnest, and slightly fragile. When she sings to Rudolph—who has just been bullied off the flight deck because of a glowing nose—she isn't promising that things are perfect right now. She’s promising that time moves forward.
That is a huge distinction.
A lot of people think the song is just "don't worry, be happy." It isn't. It’s actually quite melancholic if you listen to the chord progression. It acknowledges the "today" sucks. It admits that "the clouds may hide the sun." It’s realistic optimism, which is probably why adults find themselves tearing up at it more than kids do.
Honestly, it’s a masterclass in mid-century songwriting. Marks used a standard AABA structure, but the bridge—"Why must we wait for tomorrow? What’s wrong with today?"—captures the impatience of suffering. We want the pain to end now. Clarice, however, pulls us back. She reminds Rudolph (and the audience) that some things require the passage of time to heal.
Why This Track Defined the Rankin/Bass Era
The 1960s were a weird time for animation. You had the high-gloss Disney features on one end and the frantic, cheap Saturday morning cartoons on the other. Rankin/Bass hit this sweet spot of "Animagic" stop-motion that felt tactile and real. Because the characters were physical puppets, they had a weight to them. When Rudolph hangs his head during There’s Always Tomorrow, you feel the gravity.
The song serves a vital narrative purpose. Without it, Rudolph is just a victim of a pretty toxic North Pole culture (let's be real, Santa was kind of a jerk in that special until he needed a navigator). Clarice is the only character who shows unconditional empathy.
- She doesn't care about the nose.
- She doesn't care about the Reindeer Games.
- She sees the "tomorrow" version of Rudolph before he sees it himself.
This isn't just a Christmas song; it’s an anthem for the marginalized. In the decades since its release, the song has been adopted by various communities who feel like "misfits." It’s a survival song.
The Musical DNA of a Classic
Let’s get nerdy for a second. The arrangement by Maury Laws is what gives it that "timeless" 1960s lounge-pop feel. You’ve got the lush strings and the soft woodwinds that were a staple of the era. It sounds expensive but intimate.
Interestingly, many people confuse the singer. Because the special features Burl Ives as Sam the Snowman, casual fans often assume every song is his. Nope. This is Clarice's moment. Ives's "A Holly Jolly Christmas" provides the "up," but Orenstein provides the "soul."
The lyrics are deceptively simple:
"There's always tomorrow for dreams to come true / Believe in your dreams, come what may."
It’s easy to dismiss that as Hallmark fluff. But context is everything. In the world of the special, Rudolph is literally being exiled. He’s headed for the Island of Misfit Toys. In that light, the song is a radical act of kindness. It’s a rejection of the status quo.
Cover Versions and Cultural Legacy
While it hasn't been covered as relentlessly as "White Christmas," the song has a respectable afterlife. Everyone from Cyndi Lauper to various Broadway stars has taken a crack at it. Lauper’s version, in particular, leans into the quirkiness of the melody, highlighting that "misfit" energy she’s championed her whole career.
There’s also a certain irony in the fact that Johnny Marks, the writer, was Jewish. He didn't celebrate Christmas in the traditional sense, yet he defined the secular "feeling" of the American holiday more than almost anyone else. He understood that the holidays aren't just about joy; they’re about the contrast between the cold outside and the warmth inside. There’s Always Tomorrow is the "warm inside" part of that equation.
You see it referenced in pop culture constantly. It’s been sampled, parodied, and paid tribute to in everything from The Simpsons to indie folk albums. Why? Because the "misfit" trope is universal. We are all Rudolph at some point in our lives, standing in the snow, wondering why our "glow" is seen as a defect instead of a feature.
The Psychology of "Tomorrow"
There is a psychological concept called "future-mindedness." It’s the ability to look past current distress and visualize a better state of being. That is exactly what this song teaches. For a kid watching in 1964 or 2024, the message is the same: Your current circumstances are not your final destination.
It’s a powerful tool for resilience.
Think about the structure of the special. The song happens early. It sets the stage for the entire journey. Without Clarice’s validation, Rudolph might have just stayed in a cave somewhere. Her belief in his "tomorrow" is the catalyst for his eventual heroism. It’t a reminder that sometimes, we need someone else to believe in our future before we can see it ourselves.
Modern Re-evaluations
Some modern critics look back at Rudolph and find the social dynamics of the North Pole... problematic. They aren't wrong. The way the other reindeer treat Rudolph is straight-up bullying. But that actually makes There’s Always Tomorrow more relevant, not less. It highlights how important it is to have an ally.
Clarice is a "disruptor." She ignores the social hierarchy to sing to the guy everyone else is laughing at. In 2026, we call that being a "good human" (or a good doe, anyway).
How to Apply the "Clarice Method" to Your Life
We get bogged down. We fail. We feel like the world is moving on without us. When that happens, the song offers a three-step mental reset that is surprisingly effective.
- Acknowledge the Current State: Don't pretend things are great if they aren't. The song admits the sun is hidden.
- Pivot to Potential: Shift the focus from "what is" to "what could be."
- Wait for the Wind to Change: Sometimes, the only thing you can do is hold on until the next day.
It’s basically the 1960s version of "this too shall pass," but with better orchestration and a cute animated deer.
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If you want to really experience the song, don't just play it on a playlist of 50 holiday tracks. Watch the scene. Watch the way the stop-motion characters move. There is a slowness to it that our modern, high-speed brains need. It’s a three-minute permission slip to just breathe and wait for the sun to come back out.
Practical Next Steps for the Misfit at Heart
- Listen to the Original Soundtrack Version: Avoid the modern pop covers for a moment and go back to the 1964 Maury Laws arrangement. The specific analog warmth of the recording is half the magic.
- Identify Your "Clarice": Who is the person in your life who sees your "glow" when others see a "glitch"? Reach out to them today.
- Practice Future-Mindedness: If you’re in a "North Pole" situation where you feel undervalued, write down one thing you want to achieve in your "tomorrow."
- Watch the Special with New Eyes: Instead of seeing it as a kids' show, watch it as a study in social dynamics and resilience. It’s surprisingly deep.