I am back home enjoying a lovely, sunny, warmer day at Bayview Cottage. I got home in time to feed the dogs and see what new bills I can't pay had arrived. At least there were no hidden surprises!
As I rode home last night by myself I reflected on what had taken place from Christmas Eve to the time I left about 5:00.
Christmas Eve:
Daddy arrived to bring all kinds of toys and try to, once again, bribe his boys and wife. The boys were thrilled. My daughter was further turned off. He had thought he would lure her to the marital bed once more. Lonya and I had already blown up the air mattress beside our daughter's bed. That should have been a first sign that the room was off limits. Shortly after we retired early our daughter came in. Fully clothed she hit the sack with a huff and sigh of relief--she had made it through Christmas Eve and left him putting out Santa and deciding where he would sleep.
The Separation Papers were in Wednesday and he had insisted in coming over to review them with her. He left in a huff saying he would sign nothing. Sara told us he had done just what she expected, but she figured he would come around. All things not initiated by him get a huffy retort first. After blowing off, he usually did what she wanted him to do. We will see.
Next, before daybreak, was the running and squealing excitement of the 5 year old twins. We went to the den to find more things than any 5 children might get if only there were one. In this case about $2,000 worth of "stuff" was all over the den and quickly opened. He had left to get batteries--you would think after all these years, this man would learn how important batteries are, but he learns nothing!
Soon most of the presents were opened. After a struggle with all those things Oriental, we were, once again, reminded of how the Oriental toy makers are getting even with American parents these days--the Atom bomb with all its "fail safes" has no more steps to launch than any parent does to unwrap, un-twisted tie, remove holding screws to packages, put in batteries so that an excited child can finally use that 1 toy brought by Santa. Oh My God, there were only 10 more for each grandson to agitate over.
As the boys were playing, one of the twins ran over and grabbed the middle child's toy. Old Jack launched his attack and put the little guy to the floor sliding about 5' while Daddy did nothing. I hollered, "Woah!" and Daddy launched his anger at me: "Don't you EVER YELL AT ONE OF MY BOYS!!!!!!" All suddenly fell silent as he glared at me.
I simply walked to the edge of the kitchen and said, "Sorry about that, bud."
At the same time Lonya gave him her "laser cutting steel with flaming green eyes" look. God help the soul of anyone getting "THAT LOOK!" She didn't let it drop for one second as he made his way to the door to leave in a huff. On the way out he told my daughter he was angry and was sorry he said what he did. The gutless wonder should have said it to me, but does not have enough manhood to look the one he wronged in the eye--ever.
"That's OK," I assured my wife. "I would rather he took it out on me than any of the children, their mother, or you. I could tell by his look and sauntering ways that someone was going to get it sooner of later. Heck, a tree could really kill me and words are nothing--especially out of him." The agonies of Christmas day were over and he would have the privilege of taking 4 sugar candy / cookie (yeah, we let them eat all they wanted) boys to his mother's house. He didn't even have the guts to come back and pick them up--momma came instead--claiming his medicine had kicked in and he wasn't feeling so well.
My God, his momma is ugly these days! I watched her from the carport as I smoked my pipe. I had cracked a blind so I could take a good look at the pickup. Actually, she has cut her gray hair short for the last year. She always has a mean expression on her face and her nose is sharp and pointy to a fault. If they ever remake the "Wizard of Oz" they can hire her as the Wicked Witch of the West. All they have to do is give her a pointy hat, broom, and coat of green spray dye to make the character come to life. Unfortunately, my son-in-law has lived with her all his life--hence his lack of love for himself. It was hard for my daughter not to yell out the door: "Good luck with his boys carrying out his attitude with sugar hyped energy!"
He has an official diagnosis of Bipolar Disorder. This is our latest PC way of describing people who are mean and explosive after appearing to be somewhat nice: if you were a SOB 20 years ago, you are now Bipolar!!! Doesn't that sound nice.
Over all, our few days together were more nice than naughty. The boys are noticeably more well-behaved. Now we only hear about 2 obscene words a day rather than 2 per hour! Also a brother fight breaks out about once a day instead of every hour. We are making progress!
Only thing needed now is a signature on that Separation Document, properly notarized, and--as her lawyer says--she will be in charge (wicked grin on lawyer's face)!!!
Showing posts with label Christmas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christmas. Show all posts
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Saturday, December 26, 2009
What IS Christmas all about???
It is hard to find anything new to say about Christmas---BUT, this old time story tells it all--especially in hard economic times:
This is what Christmas is all about...
Better bundle up - the goose bumps will freeze you!! I think I need to read this every year at Christmas.
Pa never had much compassion for the lazy or those who squandered their means and then never had enough for the necessities. But for those who were genuinely in need, his heart was as big as all outdoors. It was from him that I learned the greatest joy in life comes from giving, not from receiving.
It was Christmas Eve 1881. I was fifteen years old and feeling like the world had caved in on me because there just hadn't been enough money to buy me the rifle that I'd wanted for Christmas. We did the chores early that night for some reason. I just figured Pa wanted a little extra time so we could read in the Bible.
After supper was over I took my boots off and stretched out in front of the fireplace and waited for Pa to get down the old Bible. I was still feeling sorry for myself and, to be honest, I wasn't in much of a mood to read Scriptures. But Pa didn't get the Bible, instead he bundled up again and went outside. I couldn't figure it out because we had already done all the chores. I didn't worry about it long though, I was too busy wallowing in self-pity. Soon Pa came back in. It was a cold clear night out and there was ice in his beard. "Come on, Matt," he said. "Bundle up good, it's cold out tonight." I was really upset then. Not only wasn't I getting the rifle for Christmas, now Pa was dragging me out in the cold, and for no earthly reason that I could see. We'd already done all the chores, and I couldn't think of anything else that needed doing, especially not on a night like this. But I knew Pa was not very patient at one dragging one's feet when he'd told them to do something, so I got up and put my boots back on and got my cap, coat, and mittens. Ma gave me a mysterious smile as I opened the door to leave the house. Something was up, but I didn't know what..
Outside, I became even more dismayed. There in front of the house was the work team, already hitched to the big sled. Whatever it was we were going to do wasn't going to be a short, quick, little job. I could tell. We never hitched up this sled unless we were going to haul a big load. Pa was already up on the seat, reins in hand. I reluctantly climbed up beside him. The cold was already biting at me. I wasn't happy. When I was on, Pa pulled the sled around the house and stopped in front of the woodshed. He got off and I followed. "I think we'll put on the high sideboards," he said. "Here, help me." The high sideboards! It had been a bigger job than I wanted to do with just the low sideboards on, but whatever it was we were going to do would be a lot bigger with the high side boards on.
After we had exchanged the sideboards, Pa went into the woodshed and came out with an armload of wood - the wood I'd spent all summer hauling down from the mountain, and then all Fall sawing into blocks and splitting. What was he doing? Finally I said something. "Pa," I asked, "what are you doing?" You been by the Widow Jensen's lately?" he asked. The Widow Jensen lived about two miles down the road. Her husband had died a year or so before and left her with three children, the oldest being eight. Sure, I'd been by, but so what?
Yeah," I said, "Why?"
"I rode by just today," Pa said. "Little Jakey was out digging around in the woodpile trying to find a few chips. They're out of wood, Matt." That was all he said and then he turned and went back into the woodshed for another armload of wood. I followed him. We loaded the sled so high that I began to wonder if the horses would be able to pull it. Finally, Pa called a halt to our loading, then we went to the smoke house and Pa took down a big ham and a side of bacon. He handed them to me and told me to put them in the sled and wait. When he returned he was carrying a sack of flour over his r ight shoulder and a smaller sack of something in his left hand. "What's in the little sack?" I asked. Shoes, they're out of shoes. Little Jakey just had gunny sacks wrapped around his feet when he was out in the woodpile this morning. I got the children a little candy too. It just wouldn't be Christmas without a little candy."
We rode the two miles to Widow Jensen's pretty much in silence. I tried to think through what Pa was doing. We didn't have much by worldly standards. Of course, we did have a big woodpile, though most of what was left now was still in the form of logs that I would have to saw into blocks and split before we could use it. We also had meat and flour, so we could spare that, but I knew we didn't have any money, so why was Pa buying them shoes and candy? Really, why was he doing any of this? Widow Jensen had closer neighbors than us; it shouldn't have been our concern.
We came in from the blind side of the Jensen house and unloaded the wood as quietly as possible, then we took the meat and flour and shoes to the door. We knocked. The door opened a crack and a timid voice said, "Who is it?" "Lucas Miles, Ma'am, and my son, Matt, could we come in for a bit?"
Widow Jensen opened the door and let us in. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The children were wrapped in another and were sitting in front of the fireplace by a very small fire that hardly gave off any heat at all. Widow Jensen fumbled with a match and finally lit the lamp.
"We brought you a few things, Ma'am," Pa said and set down the sack of flour. I put the meat on the table. Then Pa handed her the sack that had the shoes in it. She opened it hesitantly and took the shoes out one pair at a time. There was a pair for her and one for each of the children - sturdy shoes, the best, shoes that would last. I watched her carefully. She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling and then tears filled her eyes and started running down her cheeks. She looked up at Pa like she wanted to say something, but it wouldn't come out.
"We brought a load of wood too, Ma'am," Pa said. He turned to me and said, "Matt, go bring in enough to last awhile. Let's get that fire up to size and heat this place up." I wasn't the same person when I went back out to bring in the wood. I had a big lump in my throat and as much as I hate to admit it, there were tears in my eyes too. In my mind I kept seeing those three kids huddled around the fireplace and their mother standing there with tears running down her cheeks with so much gratitude in her heart that she couldn't speak.
My heart swelled within me and a joy that I'd never known before, filled my soul. I had given at Christmas many times before, but never when it had made so much difference. I could see we were literally saving the lives of these people.
I soon had the fire blazing and everyone's spirits soared. The kids started giggling when Pa handed them each a piece of candy and Widow Jensen looked on with a smile that probably hadn't crossed her face for a long time. She finally turned to us. "God bless you," she said. "I know the Lord has sent you. The children and I have been praying that he would send one of his angels to spare us."
In spite of myself, the lump returned to my throat and the tears welled up in my eyes again. I'd never thought of Pa in those exact terms before, but after Widow Jensen mentioned it I could see that it was probably true. I was sure that a better man than Pa had never walked the earth. I started remembering all the times he had gone out of his way for Ma and me, and many others. The list seemed endless as I thought on it.
Pa insisted that everyone try on the shoes before we left. I was amazed when they all fit and I wondered how he had known what sizes to get. Then I guessed that if he was on an errand for the Lord that the Lord would make sure he got the right sizes.
Tears were running down Widow Jensen's face again when we stood up to leave. Pa took each of the kids in his big arms and gave them a hug. They clung to him and didn't want us to go. I could see that they missed their Pa, and I was glad that I still had mine.
At the door Pa turned to Widow Jensen and said, "The Mrs. wanted me to invite you and the children over for Christmas dinner tomorrow. The turkey will be more than the three of us can eat, and a man can get cantankerous if he has to eat turkey for too many meals. We'll be by to get you about eleven. It'll be nice to have some little ones around again. Matt, here, hasn't been little for quite a spell." I was the youngest. My two brothers and two sisters had all married and had moved away.
Widow Jensen nodded and said, "Thank you, Brother Miles. I don't have to say, May the Lord bless you, I know for certain that He will." Out on the sled I felt a warmth that came from deep within and I didn't even notice the cold. When we had gone a ways, Pa turned to me and said, "Matt, I want you to know something. Your ma and me have been tucking a little money away here and there all year so we could buy that rifle for you, but we didn't have quite enough. Then yesterday a man who owed me a little money from years back came by to make things square. Your ma and me were real excited, thinking that now we could get you that rifle, and I started into town this morning to do just that,but on the way I saw little Jakey out scratching in the woodpile with his feet wrapped in those gunny sacks and I knew what I had to do. Son, I spent the money for shoes and a little candy for those children. I hope you understand."
I understood, and my eyes became wet with tears again. I understood very well, and I was so glad Pa had done it. Now the rifle seemed very low on my list of priorities. Pa had given me a lot more. He had given me the look on Widow Jensen's face and the radiant smiles of her three children.
For the rest of my life, whenever I saw any of the Jensens, or split a block of wood, I remembered, and remembering brought back that same joy I felt riding home beside Pa that night. Pa had given me much more than a rifle that night, he had given me the best Christmas of my life.
This is what Christmas is all about...
Better bundle up - the goose bumps will freeze you!! I think I need to read this every year at Christmas.
Pa never had much compassion for the lazy or those who squandered their means and then never had enough for the necessities. But for those who were genuinely in need, his heart was as big as all outdoors. It was from him that I learned the greatest joy in life comes from giving, not from receiving.
It was Christmas Eve 1881. I was fifteen years old and feeling like the world had caved in on me because there just hadn't been enough money to buy me the rifle that I'd wanted for Christmas. We did the chores early that night for some reason. I just figured Pa wanted a little extra time so we could read in the Bible.
After supper was over I took my boots off and stretched out in front of the fireplace and waited for Pa to get down the old Bible. I was still feeling sorry for myself and, to be honest, I wasn't in much of a mood to read Scriptures. But Pa didn't get the Bible, instead he bundled up again and went outside. I couldn't figure it out because we had already done all the chores. I didn't worry about it long though, I was too busy wallowing in self-pity. Soon Pa came back in. It was a cold clear night out and there was ice in his beard. "Come on, Matt," he said. "Bundle up good, it's cold out tonight." I was really upset then. Not only wasn't I getting the rifle for Christmas, now Pa was dragging me out in the cold, and for no earthly reason that I could see. We'd already done all the chores, and I couldn't think of anything else that needed doing, especially not on a night like this. But I knew Pa was not very patient at one dragging one's feet when he'd told them to do something, so I got up and put my boots back on and got my cap, coat, and mittens. Ma gave me a mysterious smile as I opened the door to leave the house. Something was up, but I didn't know what..
Outside, I became even more dismayed. There in front of the house was the work team, already hitched to the big sled. Whatever it was we were going to do wasn't going to be a short, quick, little job. I could tell. We never hitched up this sled unless we were going to haul a big load. Pa was already up on the seat, reins in hand. I reluctantly climbed up beside him. The cold was already biting at me. I wasn't happy. When I was on, Pa pulled the sled around the house and stopped in front of the woodshed. He got off and I followed. "I think we'll put on the high sideboards," he said. "Here, help me." The high sideboards! It had been a bigger job than I wanted to do with just the low sideboards on, but whatever it was we were going to do would be a lot bigger with the high side boards on.
After we had exchanged the sideboards, Pa went into the woodshed and came out with an armload of wood - the wood I'd spent all summer hauling down from the mountain, and then all Fall sawing into blocks and splitting. What was he doing? Finally I said something. "Pa," I asked, "what are you doing?" You been by the Widow Jensen's lately?" he asked. The Widow Jensen lived about two miles down the road. Her husband had died a year or so before and left her with three children, the oldest being eight. Sure, I'd been by, but so what?
Yeah," I said, "Why?"
"I rode by just today," Pa said. "Little Jakey was out digging around in the woodpile trying to find a few chips. They're out of wood, Matt." That was all he said and then he turned and went back into the woodshed for another armload of wood. I followed him. We loaded the sled so high that I began to wonder if the horses would be able to pull it. Finally, Pa called a halt to our loading, then we went to the smoke house and Pa took down a big ham and a side of bacon. He handed them to me and told me to put them in the sled and wait. When he returned he was carrying a sack of flour over his r ight shoulder and a smaller sack of something in his left hand. "What's in the little sack?" I asked. Shoes, they're out of shoes. Little Jakey just had gunny sacks wrapped around his feet when he was out in the woodpile this morning. I got the children a little candy too. It just wouldn't be Christmas without a little candy."
We rode the two miles to Widow Jensen's pretty much in silence. I tried to think through what Pa was doing. We didn't have much by worldly standards. Of course, we did have a big woodpile, though most of what was left now was still in the form of logs that I would have to saw into blocks and split before we could use it. We also had meat and flour, so we could spare that, but I knew we didn't have any money, so why was Pa buying them shoes and candy? Really, why was he doing any of this? Widow Jensen had closer neighbors than us; it shouldn't have been our concern.
We came in from the blind side of the Jensen house and unloaded the wood as quietly as possible, then we took the meat and flour and shoes to the door. We knocked. The door opened a crack and a timid voice said, "Who is it?" "Lucas Miles, Ma'am, and my son, Matt, could we come in for a bit?"
Widow Jensen opened the door and let us in. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The children were wrapped in another and were sitting in front of the fireplace by a very small fire that hardly gave off any heat at all. Widow Jensen fumbled with a match and finally lit the lamp.
"We brought you a few things, Ma'am," Pa said and set down the sack of flour. I put the meat on the table. Then Pa handed her the sack that had the shoes in it. She opened it hesitantly and took the shoes out one pair at a time. There was a pair for her and one for each of the children - sturdy shoes, the best, shoes that would last. I watched her carefully. She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling and then tears filled her eyes and started running down her cheeks. She looked up at Pa like she wanted to say something, but it wouldn't come out.
"We brought a load of wood too, Ma'am," Pa said. He turned to me and said, "Matt, go bring in enough to last awhile. Let's get that fire up to size and heat this place up." I wasn't the same person when I went back out to bring in the wood. I had a big lump in my throat and as much as I hate to admit it, there were tears in my eyes too. In my mind I kept seeing those three kids huddled around the fireplace and their mother standing there with tears running down her cheeks with so much gratitude in her heart that she couldn't speak.
My heart swelled within me and a joy that I'd never known before, filled my soul. I had given at Christmas many times before, but never when it had made so much difference. I could see we were literally saving the lives of these people.
I soon had the fire blazing and everyone's spirits soared. The kids started giggling when Pa handed them each a piece of candy and Widow Jensen looked on with a smile that probably hadn't crossed her face for a long time. She finally turned to us. "God bless you," she said. "I know the Lord has sent you. The children and I have been praying that he would send one of his angels to spare us."
In spite of myself, the lump returned to my throat and the tears welled up in my eyes again. I'd never thought of Pa in those exact terms before, but after Widow Jensen mentioned it I could see that it was probably true. I was sure that a better man than Pa had never walked the earth. I started remembering all the times he had gone out of his way for Ma and me, and many others. The list seemed endless as I thought on it.
Pa insisted that everyone try on the shoes before we left. I was amazed when they all fit and I wondered how he had known what sizes to get. Then I guessed that if he was on an errand for the Lord that the Lord would make sure he got the right sizes.
Tears were running down Widow Jensen's face again when we stood up to leave. Pa took each of the kids in his big arms and gave them a hug. They clung to him and didn't want us to go. I could see that they missed their Pa, and I was glad that I still had mine.
At the door Pa turned to Widow Jensen and said, "The Mrs. wanted me to invite you and the children over for Christmas dinner tomorrow. The turkey will be more than the three of us can eat, and a man can get cantankerous if he has to eat turkey for too many meals. We'll be by to get you about eleven. It'll be nice to have some little ones around again. Matt, here, hasn't been little for quite a spell." I was the youngest. My two brothers and two sisters had all married and had moved away.
Widow Jensen nodded and said, "Thank you, Brother Miles. I don't have to say, May the Lord bless you, I know for certain that He will." Out on the sled I felt a warmth that came from deep within and I didn't even notice the cold. When we had gone a ways, Pa turned to me and said, "Matt, I want you to know something. Your ma and me have been tucking a little money away here and there all year so we could buy that rifle for you, but we didn't have quite enough. Then yesterday a man who owed me a little money from years back came by to make things square. Your ma and me were real excited, thinking that now we could get you that rifle, and I started into town this morning to do just that,but on the way I saw little Jakey out scratching in the woodpile with his feet wrapped in those gunny sacks and I knew what I had to do. Son, I spent the money for shoes and a little candy for those children. I hope you understand."
I understood, and my eyes became wet with tears again. I understood very well, and I was so glad Pa had done it. Now the rifle seemed very low on my list of priorities. Pa had given me a lot more. He had given me the look on Widow Jensen's face and the radiant smiles of her three children.
For the rest of my life, whenever I saw any of the Jensens, or split a block of wood, I remembered, and remembering brought back that same joy I felt riding home beside Pa that night. Pa had given me much more than a rifle that night, he had given me the best Christmas of my life.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
My VERY STRANGE early Santa Beliefs!
By now, some or you have realized I take a "road not taken," as Frost put it, to some important issues of life. Actually, despite most people obsessing to be part of the gang, my daddy always made the mistake of reminding me to "Think for Yourself!"
This could not be more true of my views of Christmas Eve and Santa Clause!
I grew up in Atlanta--more specifically, Clarkston, about 20 minutes (before urban sprawl) east of Five Points--which happens to have the Southeast regional Sears & Roebuck store. It was big and it was THE most important place once December came for my brother and me. The first big event was the arrival of the Sears Christmas Catalogue! We had to control our tempers as to who would get to look at it first. Christmas is no time for a brother fight.
We knew that the budget was tight and we could only get so much. Momma and Daddy would tell us the amount as soon as we rushed to them with all kinds of things we wanted because we had turned down the page.
That was an early lesson in money management: pick out what you wanted (always at lest 10 items lusted over) / begin to narrow it down to what counts most / say your prayers it was inside the money limit / if it was a little over try to put on a good "beg face" so you stood a chance / you would never know for sure if you would get it. Therefore, prepare to be disappointed which sometimes happened.
I got to thinking about that "Santa Clause and Raindeer pulling sleigh stuff" and figured it had to be a good story, but there was no way a fat little man in one sleigh could do the job required all over the world. The more I thought about it, the more the real story started coming to me.
It was true that Christmas morning would have toys under the tree. It was true that someone had to get them there. It was not true that parents would mess with something as important as this. There just had to be an explaination better than that stupid story all the other children were telling. It made no sense to me----so quietly I discovered the truth.
The Truth: The Sears Man brings my toys from the downtown store with a big tractor trailer truck!!!!!
Yep, the other children and even my stupid little brother could believe that stuff about raindeer and sleighs, but I went to bed on Christmas Eve watching the walls for bigger lights than a car turning the corners and--if it had a diesel engine sound--the Sears Men had taken care of me!!!
There was only one problem: We were in eyesight of Stone Mountain and, at the time, it had a bright white/red beacon turning on top to direct airplanes to the Atlanta Airport--hub of the Southeast. That "set of headlights" came around about every 30 seconds so don't be fooled. The real deal would have the deep sound of a diesel engine accompanying it! Don't be fooled.
I never made it long enough into the evening, despite all the excitement, to see and hear that combo of diesel and lights, but I knew it happened before I got up the next day because the stuff under the tree and in the room was just like we saw for real on that special night daddy and momma took us downtown to muse through the whole floor of toys--only seen before in the catalogue.
Believe in Santa if you want. I stick by my modern day theory---It's really the Sears Man!
PLEASE don't ever go out of business! Betcha won't now that you've combined with K-Mart! Still the K-Mart Man doesn't have the ring of the Sears Man, my hero!
This could not be more true of my views of Christmas Eve and Santa Clause!
I grew up in Atlanta--more specifically, Clarkston, about 20 minutes (before urban sprawl) east of Five Points--which happens to have the Southeast regional Sears & Roebuck store. It was big and it was THE most important place once December came for my brother and me. The first big event was the arrival of the Sears Christmas Catalogue! We had to control our tempers as to who would get to look at it first. Christmas is no time for a brother fight.
We knew that the budget was tight and we could only get so much. Momma and Daddy would tell us the amount as soon as we rushed to them with all kinds of things we wanted because we had turned down the page.
That was an early lesson in money management: pick out what you wanted (always at lest 10 items lusted over) / begin to narrow it down to what counts most / say your prayers it was inside the money limit / if it was a little over try to put on a good "beg face" so you stood a chance / you would never know for sure if you would get it. Therefore, prepare to be disappointed which sometimes happened.
I got to thinking about that "Santa Clause and Raindeer pulling sleigh stuff" and figured it had to be a good story, but there was no way a fat little man in one sleigh could do the job required all over the world. The more I thought about it, the more the real story started coming to me.
It was true that Christmas morning would have toys under the tree. It was true that someone had to get them there. It was not true that parents would mess with something as important as this. There just had to be an explaination better than that stupid story all the other children were telling. It made no sense to me----so quietly I discovered the truth.
The Truth: The Sears Man brings my toys from the downtown store with a big tractor trailer truck!!!!!
Yep, the other children and even my stupid little brother could believe that stuff about raindeer and sleighs, but I went to bed on Christmas Eve watching the walls for bigger lights than a car turning the corners and--if it had a diesel engine sound--the Sears Men had taken care of me!!!
There was only one problem: We were in eyesight of Stone Mountain and, at the time, it had a bright white/red beacon turning on top to direct airplanes to the Atlanta Airport--hub of the Southeast. That "set of headlights" came around about every 30 seconds so don't be fooled. The real deal would have the deep sound of a diesel engine accompanying it! Don't be fooled.
I never made it long enough into the evening, despite all the excitement, to see and hear that combo of diesel and lights, but I knew it happened before I got up the next day because the stuff under the tree and in the room was just like we saw for real on that special night daddy and momma took us downtown to muse through the whole floor of toys--only seen before in the catalogue.
Believe in Santa if you want. I stick by my modern day theory---It's really the Sears Man!
PLEASE don't ever go out of business! Betcha won't now that you've combined with K-Mart! Still the K-Mart Man doesn't have the ring of the Sears Man, my hero!
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