When I was about 6 years old my dad took me and my brother out to buy my mom a Christmas present. We were totally clueless what to buy, and after wandering cluelessly for awhile my dad said "How about THIS?" holding up a carton of cigarettes.
It was as if clouds parted and rays of pure sunshine flooded the department store aisle. It was PERFECT! Mom LOVES cigarettes! And my dad even said "Look, we won't even need to wrap them!" They were gaily packaged!
When my brother and I presented the gaily packaged gift to Mom, she was thrilled! "And look," we cheered - "We didn't even have to wrap them!" and we all marvelled at the gay packaging!
A part of me longs for that simpler age, when we could smoke cigarettes like candy and drive gigantic gas-guzzling cars without Al Gore whining and carrying on like baby. And people enjoyed bargains and did not fret about the political implications of saving a buck.
sigh...
HOUSECLEANING: Notes on recent posts:
Thanks Janet and Ardell for reminding me of the things I forgot about Eunice Gore! How could I forget the "I LOVE EDNA!" billboard??? Janet remembers ALL that kind of stuff, and has a treasure trove of stories to tell. If Bill Gates would wise up and pay Janet a handsome salary to write her stories, and pay us BOTH a handsome salary to illustrate them, it would be the coolest book EVER! Way to go, Bill Gates! Thanks for NOTHING!
Jed - The reason my blog is less drawy now is because I am working non-stop on a big project that I can't post here. But I'll post a new drawy thing for Christmas!
5 comments:
Give the gift that says, "Please die!"
I hope your mom didn't have any health complications due to cigarettes.
I remember the day my dad stopped smoking. I was eight years old and he had written a note for me to give to the guy at the neighborhood drug store so that he would sell me a pack of cigarettes. (My dad was doing some house work and didn't want to go down to the store.) Just as I was getting ready to walk down the street to the drug store (yes, those were the days when there was such a thing as an independent neighborhood drug store), he decided that sending his eight-year-old son to buy cigarettes was a pretty shitty thing to do. He called me back, tore up the note, and never smoked another cigarette as long as he lived (another eleven years).
Hey, Pumpie. I wanted to make a nice Christmas card to send you to let you know I was thinking of you but I suck and didn't get any cards done. So this will have to do. Love from above. XXOOXX
Hey...forgot if I asked in my email......Do you still remember Deaf Love and his brother (who lived in his car)...they always sat on the bench outside of Bargain Town?
That word verification code was hard to read.
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