December 2009 Archives
In some pragmatic, quixotic moments I have found myself taking pity on hardcore romantics, so I guess I need a lot of self-pity. But growing up post World World II, I was reminded in my family after the long trek to visit the real Santa in Richmond that I shouldn't expect all those things I told Santa I wanted, because there were children starving in China (hmmm - I'd heard that at dinnertime as I hid my peas under my mashed potatoes). Not to mind... I only went to Richmond because, (1) I had to, and (2) I had a crush on the Snow Queen who talked to you before you stepped over to Santa. Come to think of it, I still have a crush on the Snow Queen, even if she's 98 by now. I dreamed every year she and I would get married one day and live at the North Pole. Hopeless romantics; we just refuse to grow up! The point is: I didn't know I was a hopeless romantic as a child, I just was. Fifty-three years later, I still can be, and that "frightens the stuffings out of me," a phrase my Nana used and I never understood.