2012 12: Michael's Christmas Angel: Browse The Strips
Lynn's Comments: The one time I remember going Christmas shopping with my dad was the time he decided we needed a new couch for the living room and wanted to buy one for Mom for Christmas. Bad idea. We bought a squared-off, ugly beige thing with fabric that felt like the rough side of Velcro. Mom hated it ... but, true to form, she never complained. They had that awful couch until they moved out of the house on Fifth Street. The next couch they had, she bought--with no input from Dad. Fair is fair!
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Lynn's Comments: For years, Dad worked in the jewellery and giftware business. A lot of the stuff I thought was gaudy or too expensive but one year, a glass fairy caught my eye. Her face, hands, and legs were frosted glass, her wings and clothing were clear. She sat on a "tuffet" of pebbly, textured glass--and I thought she was beautiful. I must have been about twelve when I asked for her as a gift. She was given to me for Christmas and was the first breakable piece I ever owned. This little fairy sat on my dressing table until I left home. I wish I had taken her with me because she disappeared when my folks sold the house and moved away. She was the model for this Christmas story and I still hope she's around--perhaps on another child's dressing table--still unbroken and still loved.
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Lynn's Comments: This comes from a joke my dad used to tell about a man and his son who got onto an elevator. I can't recall the joke, but I always remembered the punch line, which was: "If anyone hears anything or smells anything--it's my dad!"
Friday, December 14, 2012
Lynn's Comments: It's true. I loved every gift my kids gave me--especially the ones that were made by hand!
Saturday, December 15, 2012
Lynn's Comments: Whenever we kids went into dad's shop, we were told "Look, but don't touch." He'd also say, "You can't break something by looking at it." One day, I was looking at the corrugated board my mother used for stringing pearls. One of the services our business provided was the cleaning and restringing of quality bead necklaces--and Mom was an expert at this. I couldn't help myself, I had to run my fingers down a row of pearls just to see what they felt like. The row of pearls rolled off the groove of the board onto the floor with a wild tinkling clatter. Dad spun around when he heard them fall and ran towards me. "Honest! ... I was just LOOKING!" I told him. We both got down on the floor--desperate to find each and every one before Mom could see what had happened. Unfortunately, she returned before we finished picking up the pearls, and as her eyes fell on me, with his usual comic timing, Dad looked up at her and cried, "Honest ... I was just LOOKING!"
Monday, December 17, 2012
Lynn's Comments: One of the things I loved about my dad was that he took things in stride. He didn't get too upset when something got broken. Stuff, after all, was just stuff, and what couldn't be repaired could be replaced. As long as it hadn't been maliciously done, occasional breakage was not a big deal. We did, after all, have a gift shop, and china got broken in transit all the time.
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Lynn's Comments: Mom was a master at repairing things. She could glue and sand and paint and varnish almost anything so that the crack, chip, or missing piece was restored. This meant that anything broken at the store that was salvageable, made it's way home. We had, therefore, a plethora of pots, vases, statuettes, and collectible objects strategically placed about the house. At the time, smoking was fashionable. On every table, armchair, and bookshelf was an ashtray with a butt in every one. Dusting the china and cleaning the ashtrays was often my job, and when I got to be a teenager, I swore that when I had a place of my own, it would have no bric-a-brac or dust-collecting junk anywhere. That was then. I now have my share of detritus but it's all in cabinets and there are no ashtrays!
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Lynn's Comments: The story about the glass angel was a sort of feel-good Christmas story. It eventually became the outline for an animated special called The Christmas Angel.
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Lynn's Comments: This was the kind of magic my dad would have performed. He was just like that.