Writer | Journalist | Storyteller
We’d been hearing for several days about the snowstorm. They made it sound like it was going to be quite a doozy. Of course, if it’s going to be more than a few inches in our neck of the woods, they start calling it a blizzard. It comes complete with graphics and a name. As in, “The Blizzard of 2005” or “Storm of the Century.” So, everyone was out buying snow shovels, salt, milk and bread, like we were all going to be holed up for weeks. But while everyone...
When I was in the fourth grade, we had a genius who lived in my closet and smelled of garlic. He lived on the third floor of our house in Hatfield, Pennsylvania, slept at odd hours of the day, and kept his mail in our cereal cabinet. It’s a credit to my absolute belief in the normalcy of my family, that I didn’t find this strange in the least. The genius and I shared the third floor, which was basically a converted attic. His bed was near a large walk-in closet and that is where he...
You think he’s gone? He’s not gone. That’s the whole point! He’s never gone!
We’ve got our priorities in this country completely out of whack. Conservatives cry about the destruction of the institution of marriage because two people they feel threatened by want to get married, but support everyone’s right to shoot someone in the face if they feel threatened. They complain about sexuality being cheapened if we somehow glimpse the naked human body, but throw caution to the wind when it comes to marring off a man to a hoard of bimbos on reality television. They say it’s...
“Kids believe in Santa; adults believe in childhood.”
Santa I didn’t believe in Santa Claus as a kid. Ever. It just wasn’t part of our culture growing up. You might think that’s sad, but I never felt like I was missing out on anything. Frankly, I think I would have been pissed once I found out I was being lied to. I was that kind of kid. My parents were Conservative Evangelical Christians when we were growing up. They’ve loosened up considerably as they’ve gotten older, but in my formative years they felt it was important that we lived apart from...
Christmas Eve Christmas Eve in my parents house was not a time for presents, egg nog, extended family or any particular food item. It was the night before the event, not the event itself. Our main tradition on Christmas Eve was to go to church. We’d grumble a little maybe, asking if we really needed to go, but really, it was the best service of the year. Unlike the Catholics, Christmas Eve service didn’t count for Sunday service. It wasn’t a Mass. It was an extra service. Special. I grew up...
Christmas Presents I love packaging, which is why I used to like wrapping presents so much. I would spend hours and hours wrapping each present by hand (how else would you wrap them?), using brown paper and twine, raffia bows and handwritten notes. I hung tags from them and decorated the outside. I think it was my first Christmas with the woman who was to become my wife and her three children, I had spent a lot of time, thought and money buying presents that year. I don’t think I went overboard...
Christmas Shopping There is a story that is very much a part of the lore of Christmas in my house. It involves my mother and she doesn’t even remember it happening. She was in Macy’s buying a pair of gloves for someone, presumably by father, and there was a line at the register. It was the height of the season and tensions were high. The cashier was apparently getting frazzled and by the time my mother got to him he expressed his displeasure. “I’m sorry,” he said after snapping about something...
“I love the excitement, the childlike spirit of innocence and just about everything that goes along with Christmas.“
Writer | Journalist | Storyteller
