Bowling for Santa

 

As a boy there was nothing more magical than the holiday season. Now having reached a certain age I remember those times with the warm glow of nostalgia.

My mother was the best baker I have ever known. She made fabulous cinnamon rolls, coffee cakes, cookies and pies. My favorite was her fruit cake which was unlike any other I’ve experienced. The recipe was passed down from Dutch ancestors who are also very much a part of my Christmas memories. I dearly wish I had that recipe.

Those boyhood holidays were a rich blend of old world and American traditions celebrated by relatives speaking Dutch and English often in the same sentence. All utterly gone now and greatly missed.
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The Santa Profile

 

These days you can’t be too careful about trusting your holiday good wishes to just any elf that comes along. Is he the real deal? When in doubt it is always best to consult experts. Otherwise that jolly old gent might just turn out to be a porch pirate in disguise.

Being a child of the twentieth century sometimes my attitudes are a little out of the current mainstream. One area that bothers me is widespread surveillance of individuals and invasive cataloging of personal information. Perhaps I just need to go along and get along.

Memory

 

Memory is fascinating to me. It is at the core of each of us. Without it we lose the sense of self that makes us human.

This is the intro for a new slideshow I’m working on about memory and place. My idea is to illustrate three threads of memories about my experiences in Texas. The idea keeps evolving just like my memories so I’m not sure what the finished piece will include.