Fear and Loathing on the Road to Christmas, '86-'88

I haven't been feeling very well the past few days, but I wanted to do something nice for the up-coming holidays.

It's no secret that I'm not a big fan of pictures. But when Justin and I were going through comic books a few weeks back, I'd found a cache of older snapshots I hadn't seen in awhile. I'm not entirely sure where they came from -- mom would periodically hand me pictures, and Dad gave me a lot of them a few months before he died, ones that were probably assumed lost in the divorce shuffle.

Most of these are from Christmas in the late 1980s. The scans aren't the best. And not all are entirely flattering pictures of yours truly, but I share them because this is the time of year when things should be shared. Even things we'd normally consider private.












One of the reasons that I like Christmas so well is that it's really the sort of holiday that's just for everybody. No matter which of the various religious or non-religious traditions you recognize, there's something there for you, and unlike Halloween it isn't just for the children, or like Thanksgiving which is just a family affair. And there's even an argument for it being a parent's holiday, in that so much of the leg work is done by parents, to make the season so magical for their children. It's really a time of year that's for everyone.

Save, perhaps, for the lonely.


This last one is a little before my time. December of '82, the back of the photo reads. My mom and dad, looking so young, and my Grandpa Cole. Two of these people are no longer with us.

I miss you, dad. You always worked so hard around this time of year to convince me you knew Santa. It's funny how when you're six, that's not such a stretch, especially since both of you worked nights, right?

Merry Christmas, everyone.