It was Christmas of 1984, and my mother crammed my three older siblings and me into a compact car and took us to Arkansas to celebrate the holiday. I vaguely remember it — my mother, on the other hand, remembers it quite clearly. Apparently, it was pretty rough.
No doubt, putting one adult, two older teenagers and two small boys into a small car for six hours was a recipe for disaster. One of us — I shall not say who — was behaving horribly and Mom couldn’t seem to get control of the situation. She was exasperated nearly the entire time. Read more
It was my worst Christmas ever, and it all got ruined by a pine tree, laundry detergent, and some really good intentions. Read more
A few years ago, on Christmas Day, a friend was celebrating with her family when they heard a single, loud pop outside. They didn’t think anything of it, but soon the sound of sirens filled the neighborhood.
Their neighbor had walked out to the back patio and shot herself. Read more