The Ghost of Christmas Past

Contrary to what you are going to think when you see these photos, the kids in my family did not do drugs, well not until many years after these where taken. What I notice when looking at these photos of Christmas Past, is that only my brother actually is attentive to where we are and why. My sister, in the first one, was caught mid blink, almost as if the sleepy Santa has put her in a trance. I am guessing this was taken at JL Hudson’s in Detroit, but I am not sure why we did not go to the Ford Rotunda in Dearborn, which was a holiday tradition when we were very young. At the Rotunda , you sat in a sleigh that was taken around to where Santa was sitting. Those photos ( I will search boxes soon) had us in full hats and coats as it was cold in there and we were suppose feel as if we had ridden the sleigh to the North Pole. Since this is not in color, I would place it around the time of Laura Ingalls Wilder and her first Little House book.

Now we have color and a stunned pair of sisters. Notice that Santa is completely asleep. Only my brother, once again, has focused at the matter at hand. I have a theory on him. I think he figured he had been so bad all year, that this picture of Santa would redeem him. (I look at this picture and am amazed at how much my brother’s two grandsons look like him.) See that crap on my face? That was impetigo, a really contagious skin thing that went through our house. I was the only lucky one who not only had to battle a pixie haircut on a round face, but also had to have facial impetigo in Christmas pictures. I certainly hope I gave it to that sleeping Santa.

Here we are in Aunt Lillian and Uncle Earl’s basement. I love the theme of decorations, none of which I remember by the way. There are antlers with a Chinese hat. There are two German steins, a minuscule trophy, and a horse. I get the steins, wearing a German last name and all, but the rest I don’t have a clue on.

My favorite memory of Aunt Lillian and Uncle Earl’s basement was the Christmas I was twelve. Aunt Lillian’s snooty sister reached across the table (tsk tsk tsk, not good manners) and put her right breast in the gravy boat. Well, I think I could not have enjoyed that moment more if she had fallen and her skirt had gone over her head. She was slapping the gravy off her breast with such a rate that I was concerned she would knock it off. I started to laugh until my mother gave me the “Laugh and I will kill you ” look. It did not matter, I had it etched in my mind. I can act it out for you sometime.

Some families leave milk or hot chocolate for Santa and carrots for his reindeer. Not us. We left Santa a shot of whiskey. My dad always said that Santa needed it by the time he got to our house.

For those of you who have wondered from where I get my great height, 5′2″, just look at my parents. I was probably thirteen in this picture, and I am almost as tall as my father, whom I believe was about 5′5″. My mother was in heels, as she was not as tall as he was. I was not destined to be tall. However, my brother and my sister both made it to be taller than the parents. Just luck I guess.

Merry Christmas from all of us at Possum Manor!

Maybe tomorrow’s blog will be titled “Worst Christmas gifts ever received” or “What the heck were they thinking of?”