Some people are always willing to inject that little bit of fun into things. My mom worked to do it. She cooked, made stockings, decorated, invited people (lots of people) to come to the festivities. But my dad? He just made the fun. He told stories, true or not. Here my dad on the left (RIP) is amusing his brother-in-law, my Uncle E.C. (also RIP) with some story. The gift he has unwrapped is a pack of long matches for lighting the fireplace. Fire-building was his job. My Uncle E.C. loved to tell a story, too. They both enjoyed a bit of the spirits, too. I miss them both.
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