At your request, I’ve given my mom a voice. But before she speaks, you must realize she’s delusional. It’s not her fault…really. Back in the olden days they didn’t treat head injuries with the same urgency they do now.
I mean She’s actually convinced that Elvis sang Love Me Tender right to her. Sure mom. You could tell his penetrating gaze glanced past three thousand other women and bore directly into your googly eyes. After looking at the pictures (the only proof you’ve got), I’m not even sure that spot on the stage is actually Elvis.
Notice she’s wearing the crown? On this particular day, she was the queen of England…delusional, I warned you.
Ok, ok, I’ll quit picking on my mom. She gets herself into enough trouble without my help.
Her voice speaks (loudly).
Since it is the Christmas Season, Let me share one funny story about FringeGirl. She was in her mid teens when we went to the Bear Mountain Lodge up by West Point Military Academy with her cousin who is mentally challenged. FringeCousin so wanted to see Santa but was afraid to go up to him, so FringeGirl marched over to Santa and sat on his lap. In a loud, cheerful voice she requested a shiny red Corvette. Santa Ho Ho’d and asked if she was a good girl and if she deserved so great a gift.
FringeGirl had all the people laughing with her witty reply, and the children gathered around curious to see this “big Girl” sitting on Santa’s lap. FringeCousin was encouraged and went near Santa and whispered her wish list and she left very happy and excited about vising with Santa.
That Christmas morning FringeGirl was a little saddened when there was no Corvette under the tree, but as we walked outside to go visit her grandparents, lo and behold, guess what was sitting in front of the house? You got it. There sat a shiny red Corvette.
FringeGirl took one look at it, whooped loudly and went flying off the porch shouting, “There is a Santa!”
Unfortunately it was not for her. It belonged to a relative who was visiting a neighbor.
So there you have it. A story from my childhood. You’re lucky I intervened. My mom was about to break out the baby book. She may have started at day one and ended thirty…cough, cough…oh, sorry, I’ve got a tickle in my throat…twenty-seven years later.
Think big this Christmas. No point in asking Santa for a new toothbrush…ask for a new set of teeth. Go ahead!