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There were other Christmases and other memories I have from when I was a boy.

There was the time I rode around town with my dad on Christmas Eve leaving Christmas turkeys on the doorsteps of families not as fortunate as ours.

There’s the fragmented memory I have of walking down the aisle at church cradling my favorite gift … a white football … a gift I gave to some less fortunate boy or girl.

I have no memory of the chronology of the events leading up to that moment, how I managed to receive the gift and give it away all within the confines of Christmas Eve and Christmas day I don’t know.  But, does it matter?

Then there’s the year I got the second best gift ever (the first being a new bicycle) a new pair of black figure skates that, as my dad pointed out, were made of Sheffield Steel.

Too anxious to wait, I grabbed my skates, snuck out of the house before breakfast,  headed for the ice rink at the town park a block and a half from where I lived and while puff balls of snow fell straight down, the world silent and devoid of people, in my ecstasy I lost all track of time while making figure 8’s or skating really fast while using the teeth at the tips of my skates to turn and stop on a dime fragments of ice rising on either side; the whole experience was one, long magical moment.

But the year the lady from Canada came to our house … maybe because  all the rooms at the inn were taken … was the only Christmas I can clearly remember from beginning to end.

My Christmas wish?  May we put aside our troubles, have magical moments armed with  the knowledge that we are all sharing our own personal magical moments together!

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