Ashley loved what I got her – a couple of Joyce Carol Oates books she didn’t have, and Love Story on DVD – so it was a great Christmas from where I’m sitting. A little after three we sat down to a dinner of ham and chicken and sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, succotash, stuffing and spiced apples, with Granny’s red velvet cake for dessert. After I took Granny home, I went to Ashley’s grandmother’s house and ate dinner with her family, which was country ham sandwiches, fruit salad and baked oysters. Not too shabby.
How did I make out as far as presents, you ask? That can best be answered with four words: Johnny. Cash. Action. Figure.
You damn right. I didn’t even know these fucking things existed, but my mom found one when she and Granny went to Tennessee for a week after Thanksgiving. I made out good this year – a Sports Illustrated baseball book, a heated ice scraper from Granny, and a shitload of money – but Little Johnny there is my favorite by far. Dad couldn’t believe how thrilled I was by it. “Can you imagine a man twenty-six years old getting that excited over an action figure?” he asked Granny with a grin.
The tree was beautiful, the food was great, and I have the best family in he world. This year’s Christmas was a keeper.