I remember a long time ago, we lived in an old farmhouse. My mom had five kids ages five and under and it was Christmas time when everybody got wonderful presents from Santa Claus...AKA, mom and dad.
We were not well to do. Money was very tight and hard to come by. Especially if you were farm people. So, my mom at some point that year, began a qwest to save her gold bond stamps. She saved those stamps for what seemed an eternity to her. Finally she had enough stamps saved that she could redeem them for a very special Christmas present.
My poor mom! She tried so hard and so often went so unappreciated. I was only five for goodness sake, but looking back at her noble actions in saving those stamps, let's just say she was not rewarded in like measure.
She redeemed those wonderful gold bond stamps for the most beautiful bride doll. This would be my Christmas present that year. This doll was gorgeous, I remember. She had long blonde curls and dark red lips and a lovely crispy white wedding gown. She was breathtaking. As much as I could, I loved that doll.
Then one day my mom came into the house from outside. I was sitting on the lowest steps of the staircase, with my beautiful doll and a pair of scissors. This is the first memory I have of my mother coming unglued. Likewise, I imagine this was her first inkling that her precious daughter was spawned by evil. All around me were long blonde golden locks of hair.
My defense: "It'll grow back Mommy. It'll grow back. (She always said my trimmed hair would grow back). Go figure.
Merry Christmas Everyone!
Miss Beth
child of the fifties!
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