ChristmasLand The now-closed Santa's Village in Dundee, IL, ca. 1967. We went there with my dad, my dad's boss and one or two of his kids... no moms. I don't think I'd remember it if it wasn't for the pictures and, even then, the memory is vague. How cool is that tree-ride-thingy, though, huh?
At top right, I'm doing an imitation of my mother -- pregnant with Michael at the time. My notes say Toronto, but logic tells me St. Louis. We moved so much in those days, though... who knows?
We definitely had a good time on Christmas morning, no matter where we lived.
In that last picture, I was in second grade. It was Annie's first Christmas, so our first Christmas with our family as complete as it would ever be. We were living in a rented house and moved into the first home my parents bought a short time later, a much larger "Colonial." At the time, though, for a short while, I shared a bedroom in the rented three-bedroom with Michael. The trap door to the attic, where the Christmas presents were stashed, was in the hallway right outside our bedroom door. I remember waking up in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve, as Mom and Dad pulled the presents down, and spying the guitar in the attic -- I knew that it was for me. I don't remember that it was something I really wanted or asked for, was hoping for or expected, but I knew that it was mine. I was dreamy in bed, happy and excited at the discovery, and then, a moment later, disappointed that the surprise was ruined. I ruined plenty of Christmas surprises in years to come -- on purpose -- 4 a.m. adventures to the living room, usually with Karen, to see what was under the tree.
Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays! Merry Days!