Monday, December 19, 2011


Hello everyone!  I am posting this from my daughter's home in Connecticut.  This will be the first Christmas I have been able to spend with her and her family in five years.  I have been here since November 17th and I am thoroughly enjoying the grand-kids.  I posted these stories last December and will probably make them an annual post.
Before you get started I want you to know in the first story there are “spoilers” for those of you who may still BELIEVE.  So don’t read any further.
I was in the second grade the fall of 1949, and I had a horrible revelation foisted on me by a mean classmate at school.  My parents found themselves with an hysterical child, ranting on and on about a stupid boy and his stupid ideas.
I was VERY angry because he had snidely said,” Only BABIES believe in Santa Clause."  This boy was a “know it all jerk” and made my life miserable for the entire day. 
I was extremely upset, but what I did not realize at the time was that Mom and Dad were devastated.  I was too young to be robbed of this beautiful concept.   They weren’t ready to let their baby grow up.  By the end of the day they had hatched a plan to thwart this young man’s intentions.
The first was to have a conversation with the boy and his father.  Since my father was the superintendent of that school district, this was a sobering event for the bully and his dad.  I was never bothered again.
The second strategy was what ended up being the most memorial event of my young life.  They set out to PROVE that Santa did indeed exist! 
Mom and Dad told me this story several times over the years and now I am sharing it with you.
On Christmas Eve it was snowing and we went about our usual tasks of setting out milk and cookies after figuring out the most likely place for Santa to get into our second floor apartment.  It was finally decided that he would probably come in through my bedroom window because it overlooked the roof of the grocery store next door.  Cookies and milk was set on my nightstand and the window was unlocked so Santa could easily gain entrance. 
I will never forget what my eyes were awakened to the next morning.  It was cold in my room because my window was slightly ajar.  There was snow accumulated on my windowsill and footprints made of snow just below the window on my rug.  The footprints led off into the front room and were slowly melting from the warmth.
I bounded from my bed and bumped into my parents who were standing there pointing out the window with amazed looks on their faces.  I turned and looked out the window and THERE on the rooftop of Schindler's Grocery Store were the long straight marks of Santa’s sleigh and tiny reindeer tracks. 
Just outside and below my window was a large round place smoothed out where Santa had obviously set his large sack of presents.  I WAS ECSTATIC!  It was the best Christmas ever and turned out to be my last because other kids were determined to make this BABY grow up on their timetable not my parent’s.
What I didn’t hear that morning was my mother gasp as she placed her hand over her mouth.  What I didn’t see was that the sleigh tracks came across the roof and drove right past (over) a chimney in the middle of the roof.   Dad in his frantic early morning effort, with a close-line pole, had failed to notice the irregularity.
Nevertheless, it had the desired effect and proved to be one of my favorite stories to be told each Christmas.  Their expression of LOVE was the best present I could have ever received.  Christmas is supposed to be about the expression of LOVE.  I think that a lot of the people in this world have forgotten that.  
kt 2010
Now here is another one:


When I was in high school (late 50s) my mother (ignoring Dad's vociferous protests) bought us a REAL tree.  Up to then we had had a series of really BAD silver tin-foil trees with an annual changing of the color of the ornaments to be used.  One year they were a horrible magenta!

I was delighted that we were going to have a REAL tree. Mom even had it flocked with fake snow.  It was a magnificent tree!

However, (yep, you knew the however, was coming) what she failed to consider was the budgie cage filled with 6 young parakeets.  Our loving couple had blessed us with 8 eggs that fall, 6 of which hatched into adorable little trouble-makers. We thought it would be cool to watch the process but, hadn't a clue as to the problems we were inviting into our lives.

The first thing that happened is that the male (Sam) dropped dead a few weeks after we purchased him a beautiful yellow mate (Samantha).  Apparently, we had waited too long to get him a mate as he couldn't handle the stress.  I guess he knew what was coming as the brood that hatched was a real rowdy bunch.

One day, one of them figured out how to open the cage door (my mother swore that I left it ajar after feeding them) and the whole lot escaped (except for Samantha, who was glad they were gone).  I heard my mother yell, "Noooooooo! Nooooooo! The Christmas Tree!"

I rushed into the front room to find her shooing the flock from her precious tree. They were busily plucking off flocking and pine needles.  The front room was more flocked than the tree.  Thank God my mother didn't have a gun because she probably would have shot the birds, me, and then herself!

By the time we caught all 6 (took about an hour during which time my mother was uttering all kinds of obscenities) the poor tree looked a little sad.  There was white flocking and pine needles in every part of the house.  My mother was livid.

The next day the parakeets were gone (all of them) cage and all.  I never had the courage to ask her what she did with them.  I had visions of her taking them to the Chinese restaurant at the shopping center  down the street (Sorry, was that not politically correct to say?).

We went back to fake trees the next year.  A green one this time!


                         HAVE  A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE !!!