December 18th, 2014
When I was a child, some eighty years ago, waiting for Christmas was most difficult. I nagged. I peeped. Once I found Santa’s hiding place and on another occasion I talked Mama into letting us see our dolls with a promise to quickly return them to the tree.
When I was in the third grade my brother who was living in the magic city of Atlanta sent me a replica of Scarlett O’Hara. Alas, I had my heart set on a Betsy Wetsy doll and was sorely disappointed. What was wrong with the man in the red suit and snow white beard. I’d made my request plainly. Bah and Humbug! I cried and cried ands flung my gift across thee room, little knowing it would some day become an heirloom.