Wednesday, December 5, 2007
My mother loves to tell the story about the day I was born. I made her cry because I ruined her Christmas that year. First of all, I was late. Come to think of it, I'm always late. That's why I set all my clocks ahead random amounts so I'm never really sure what time it is. But I digress. My parents already had a cute little eighteen month old boy who they wanted to spend Christmas with......they didn't even know me. So I showed up on December 20th...late...and Mom's doctor told her she might go home the 24th. She cried. The good news is she made it home in time and my Dad bought me a Coca Cola Santa that Rich's was selling that year. We have an old black and white photo taken with a Brownie camera of that Santa on the sofa next to a big blob of blankets. I was somewhere in the big blob. That ol' Santa saw many Christmas days with us, but he finally disintegrated.
Not long ago, Coke started selling the Santas again. My dad got me a new one for my birthday and the new guy spends every Christmas on the sofa......just like his predecessor. It just wouldn't be Christmas without him