“We’ll just draw names again. Except for the babies.”
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I’ve never really cared about the gift exchange element to Christmas. Time and time again, as a child, I’d be asked what I wanted and time and time again, I’d say I didn’t care. I’d be pressed until I crumbled and rattled off some random item. A typewriter (which I ended up loving), board games (which I’ve since donated to high school theatre departments), books (I still have every one of these), a video recorder (I used it once six years ago to document a living will). I’ve never really put that much focus on material things. Not to say that I...
Ah, Wilderness! Ah, Bottle Rockets!
I was never the best with fireworks. Which I find odd, in retrospect, because I had nearly flawless hand-eye coordination. Reflexes that would make a hummingbird jealous. I played tennis, and well. But, somehow this quick-speed ability failed me at fireworks. I learned the hard way, too. For some reason, as children, when the Hot Holidays arrived, so called because we were allowed fireworks as part of the celebration - and these included Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas which drained into New Year's, Valentine's Day, the Fourth; basically, we begged for fireworks on every holiday - and when we got them, oh how we eagerly hoarded...
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