IT WAS THE CHRISTMAS OF 2011. THE OLDEST WAS 80. THE YOUNGEST WAS 18. THERE WERE A FEW IN BETWEEN. THIS WAS LIKE OTHERS WHEN MORE CAME WHO DIDN'T. BUT THIS YEAR THE ONES WHO USUALLY DIDN'T DID AND THE ONES THAT USUALLY DID DIDN'T. OUR ONE WHO USUALLY DIDN'T MAKE UP FOR THE YEARS SHE DIDN'T. SHE ARRIVED ON THE SCENE WITH BAGS AND CASES OF GIFTS. SOME WERE FOUND AT THRIFT STORES AND HOARDED AND OTHERS WERE NEW. THE FORMER OUTNUMBERED THE LATTER. THERE WERE BOOKS GALORE. SOME WERE LIKE NEW AND OTHERS WERE WARPED AND YELLOW. BUT THE TITLES AND SUBJECTS OF THE BOOKS WERE CHOSEN SPECIALLY FOR THE RECEIVER. A BRASS SIX-INCH PLANE FOR THE PILOT AND A BOOK, "FLYING WITH LINDBERGH", COPYRIGHT, 1928 WITH PAGES SO YELLOW, THEY ARE ALMOST BROWN. WARPED AND CROOKED BOOKS ABOUT WINE, WELL INTENDED FOR OUR "WINE SPECIALIST" IN THE FAMILY. THERE WERE BOOKS ABOUT THE SEA AND A TALKING FISH ON A PLAQUE TO HANG ON THE WALL OF OUR FLY FISHERMAN.
THE FISHERMAN WHO MISSED LAST YEAR, ARRIVED ON THE SCENE ON TIME. HE WAS LADEN WITH GIFTS AND JOYFULLY HAPPY. TO HIS FATHER, HE GAVE A NEW WISK BROOM TO SWEEP HIS NEW CAR. TO HIS MOTHER, HE GAVE TWO SIZES OF FLASHLIGHTS SO SHE WOULDN'T BE LOST IN THE DARK. TO HIS NEPHEWS, HE GAVE EACH A JUMPER CABLE FOR HIS CAR. FOR HIS BROTHER HE GAVE BALLS TO HITCH TO ONE OF HIS CARS FOR A TRAILER.
WE LAUGHED MORE THAN ANY CHRISTMAS EVER. IT WAS FUN AND WE ENJOYED ONE ANOTHER'S COMPANY.
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