When Christmas isn't merry
Addiction, loss, and some crazy memories
Book talk will resume in the new year, now for something completely different.
The other day one of my children was telling me that my dad told them stories of staying up all night on Christmas Eve putting up the tree and putting together toys for my brother and me.
Total fiction.
He was generally up most of the night on Christmas Eve but it was in a local gin mill. My mom put up the tree (Santa brought our tree when we were young) and put together any toys and then sat in a chair chain smoking and fuming until my father finally arrived in dubious condition. Then the fighting began.
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