A Christmas Story: The Series

So, this BLOG, once loosely dedicated to detailing my random encounters with the general population, has run a bit dry. I could blame a lot of things, but most of it has to do with me, my routine and my attitude.

All noise aside, many of you know I’ve always been a sucker for the holidays. Specifically, the Las Vegas approach to Christmas. Silver trees. Sparkling lights. Strong drinks and candlelight. It’s also that special time of year when I get to unveil my beloved collection of holiday records. Tis’ not the season until Gene Autry, Perry Como and Elvis have spent some time on the turntable.

But living 600 miles away from our families and the harsh reality of being perpetually broke has taken a toll. Over the last couple of years, I’ve become painfully aware that the innocent joy I once knew isn’t what it used to be. Like most adults, I find myself getting distracted by things like paying the property taxes or the endless barrage of bad news that comes flooding in every day. So, in an effort to jump start my annual wave of affection for candy canes outdated images of Santa and tacky displays of electrical waste, I’m going to post a Christmas memory each day until the 25th.

Stop by. Read my stories. Share your own. The important thing is that you help me help myself find the spirit that seems to be missing. And somewhere between the Happy Holidays and the Happy New Year, I hope you find some time on your agenda to simply be happy. I know I’m going to give it a shot. And speaking of shots, feel free to knock on the door if you’re in the neighborhood. We’ll bask in the glow of the aluminum Christmas tree, have a drink and talk about gross domestic product or something a little more exciting—if we’re lucky.

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2 thoughts on “A Christmas Story: The Series

  1. aunt Linda says:

    I shall look forward to reading your comments every morning. In fact, looking at your blog is a part of my day. I feel a little neglected when I don’t “hear from you” for a few days. I’m sure you will be giving a new spin to the doldrums (is that how you spell that word?? whatever) we face on a daily basis. You can always see the humor in human stupidity and the attention you give to small unnoticed stuff is uplifting.

    I think you might like this memory I have to share although it won’t be written with your wit and insight. I can remember a time around Christmas I think, when I was little, maybe around age 8 and Big Jimmy, Gary, myself (and maybe other smaller cousins)were playing in the woods behind the first Big House at the end of the street where we lived in YC. The grown ups were in the house doing whatever- cooking, visiting. It was cloudy, very cold and snow was on the ground. I remember this because we had a little wooden bridge that ran across a creek in the woods and the water under the bridge was icy and partially frozen over and I can remember the snow up the banks of the stream. We use to play around this water at all times of the year. We liked to stand on the bridge and throw in rocks or whatever we felt like throwing in. Seems like we were probably at least 3 or 4 feet above the water throwing in whatever we could find. Then all of a sudden Gary fell into the water. We all ran to help him out and take him up to the house. He was so cold and crying. But he was OK – maybe a little scratched and scared.

    What strikes me about that time is that I don’t remember getting into trouble for letting him fall in. I don’t remember getting into trouble for being down there, a bunch of little cousins alone in the big woods above a running stream throwing in rocks. No one was down there telling us to be careful(which I’m sure they would have told us if they had been there) or to come inside because it’s too cold. We were just having fun and maybe learning on our own to be careful. It was a wonderful time to be living in YC. And none of us got killed, molested, lost, hurt, etc. You kind of just learned by doing I guess. I am glad I grew up this way without having to be told everything that I should be doing and without constant reminding on what I did wrong. We went to church on Sunday, we ate supper together (yes it was supper), we went to school every day and we had lots and lots of family get togethers. I was given leeway to develop my own mind and make my own decisions (to a certain point)….and I lived to tell about it! It was a great place to grow up.

    That woods down behind the house and barn was my playground and I have very fond memories of growing up in the trees. Summer or winter – I was down there in my make believe world. Makes it sound like I was Tarzan without parents but you know I had good parents but they also gave me freedom to learn a little bit by myself.

    Happy memories.
    Aunt Linda

    • curtisgreen says:

      Hey Linda.

      Can’t tell you how much I enjoyed the tale of you guys playing at the old house on Rutledge. Your response is exactly what I was hoping to hear back from people. I also really appreciate the fact that you mentioned how independent kids were when you were growing up. We watched a piece of a documentary yesterday about kids growing up in Chicago in the 50s & 60s and many of the people echoed your sentiment.

      Merry Christmas. Hope our paths cross soon. curtis

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