The first time I remember seeing Rudolph

I was in the hospital. I was five years old. I was getting my tonsils taken out.

I can remember my dad running around the hospital looking for quarters because that is how the tv ran in those days in the hospital. (of course that is the recollection of a 5 year old so take it for what it's worth)

My mom made sure I got all the ice cream and milkshakes that I could want to eat. The doctor okayed it. Apparently those things make firey tonsils feel better.

I guess Rudolph made me feel better too. It's a good thing because I can also remember that it took 3 or 4 nurses to hold me down to give me a shot. I remember being in the operating room and them holding me down while I was screaming because they were putting a basket covered with cotton over my face (chloroform?)

After it was over I ate french fries and more milkshakes and when I went home I got to hang my "shotter" on the Christmas Tree.

YAH! RUDOLPH!

Why was Santa so mean to Rudolph anyway?

hmm

My First Married Thanksgiving

I went to my parents house and my new in-laws house. The part I really remember was at my in-laws house. I had a most excellent mother-in-law. We grew to be great friends over time but when I was first married she had major issues with the fact that I refused to wait on my husband hand and foot. Don't get me wrong I didn't mind doing things for him, but what I did mind was someone thinking that I should cater to his every whim just because he was a man and I was a woman. WRONG!

She wanted no help in the kitchen. She had her own way of doing things. I respected that. So the whole family was gathered throughout the house doing whatever while we waited for dinner to be ready. It was really very nice not to have to worry about helping to prepare the meal - I was used to helping my mom and it wouldn't have been a problem to help my mother-in-law if she had wanted the help.

It came time to eat and she called everyone to the kitchen. It was buffet style. I jump right in and fix myself a plate of food and as I was walking away she yells, "Bobby, come and eat, Pam has your plate ready!"

I just looked at her and smiled and said, "this is my plate, I have no idea what he wants to eat!" I took my plate and when Bobby had his plate ready he joined me. Thankfully she didn't make an issue of it and neither did I so it was a great Thanksgiving. Bobby and I laughed together many times about it over the years and she was eventually able to have a little giggle about it herself once she started to come to my home to eat Thanksgiving dinner.

I remember how pleased she was that I was able to even cook such a meal. "I didn't know you had it in you, girl." she smiled at me. I did however let her fix whatever she wanted in my kitchen. The more the merrier was my philosophy and it still is.