My wife was going through some of her boxes of Christmas ornaments — notice how I say “her” instead of “our” – it’s not that I don’t like them or the Christmas season – it’s jus’ that I’m too dysfunctional to truly enjoy the excitement of decorating. I’d much rather hear everyone else argue over how to do this or that, than join in myself.
Anyway, she found an item I thought had been lost years and years ago. It’s a simple, hand-made Christmas stocking that I was given as a little guy in Klamath.
Mom made one for me and one for Adam when we were still living on Sanders Court about 1965. At that time our sister’s, Deirdre and Marcy, had yet to be born, and because of this I don’t think Mom never made them a “special” stocking for the fire place.
When my wife pulled it from the bottom of the box — for some reason – perhaps allergies – I got all choked up and my eye-balls started leaking. It’s a silly thing for a dysfunctional man like me to have happen at such a moment.
It’s the best present an old man could receive.
The Old Blog in the Desert 
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