So this story, a story of opening a Christmas gift (or, as it turns out, two), is a story of Christmas Eve. I've told it here before, quite a few years ago, and if you haven't forgotten it, I hope you won't mind a re-telling, this time with illustrations. . . .
1st frame: Although I really wanted a radio for the little car I'd bought (to commute to university), my Christmas request in 1970 was for winter boots in this style popular at the time -- mukluk-shaped, not really practical in the wet climate of the Pacific Northwest. The oldest of twelve, I knew my parents couldn't afford boots & radio. . .
2nd frame: So I was grateful, if not surprised, to open a box and see a pair of blue boots.
But after I'd tried on the boots, my Dad pointed to an envelope with my name on it. . .
3rd frame: In the envelope, a note from my Dad that sent me out to the garage where my little Sunbeam Imp was parked.
And on its front seat, a box. . .
4th frame: I had it "installed" a few days later, a hole drilled through the hood for the antenna. . . .
snow boots and a radio -- a Christmas I'll never forget. . .
Postscript: Only in recent years has it occurred to me that my mother might not have loved her role in this story . . .
And with that, may I wish you all the joys of the season. My son, daughter-in-law, our granddaughter (3), and newly crawling grandson arrive in a few hours, and then we'll all head out to a gathering of my siblings, their spouses, and a goodly array of nieces and nephews and their partners, a grand-niece for my grandkids to play with. My sister expects about 40 of us -- there are still at least 20 of us who won't be there, living or travelling too far away, and I can't help thinking of the way, when Dad was out with five or six of us kids, back in the day, and someone complimented him on his family, he'd be sure to point out that this was only half -- he had another bunch at home just as good! Big families!
We'll have thirteen around the table tomorrow in our relatively small condo (and no, I don't think that's unlucky at all! -- but just in case, the little guy won't actually be at the table, but in a high chair right nearby). And then when everyone goes home on Boxing Day, I think I'm going to curl up in a corner with a book or two. I may not chat with you again until after New Year's. But I'll think of you and look forward to our friendship and conversation continuing. . . Meanwhile, though,
Merry Christmas! and a Happy New Year!
And Peace, let's all find ways to Bring Peace to All!