I can’t say this tale stands out as my favorite Christmas memory, but it does stand as the one with the sharpest details.
The story starts on a Saturday morning, early in December back in the early 1950s, I’m guessing 1953 or ’54, when I would have been 9 or 10 years old; my brother, 5 or 6.
It was also a time when Christmas tree lots were few and far between and fold-...
To access content, please login or purchase a subscription.