This little Christmas tale goes back to 1962 when my twin brother and I were seven years old. Even at this young age, we knew that Santa wasn’t real—a truth taught to us by other kids in grade school.
Anyway, Jerry, my twin, loved to wrap Christmas gifts. This was a good thing as my mother didn’t, I sure didn’t, my younger brother was too little to even know about it and it was the last thing on my father’s mind.
So my twin brother did most of the wrapping that year and he was quite good at it—got caught up in it too. He made each gift look as good as possible.
My grandparents, on my mother’s side of the family, always came to our farm in East Enterprise, Indiana on Christmas Eve to exchange gifts. The following day, Christmas Day, is when we would go to their farm to have the big Christmas dinner.
On that Christmas Eve in 1962, we were all opening our presents and everybody was impressed with the wrapping my twin brother had done and told him so. He was, of course, delighted.
When the gift exchange was over, my grandfather looked confused.
“I don’t seem to have a gift here from Jerry,” he said.
My twin brother got a shocked look on his face. He immediately ran upstairs to our room. We all could hear him fooling around with wrapping paper and tape. Within a few minutes, he came back downstairs and handed my grandfather his gift. Jerry fell into his arms crying.
Jerry was so busy wrapping other family member’s gifts that he forgot to wrap the gift he got for my grandfather.
My grandfather laughed and hugged my twin brother. He said it was all OK and thanked my brother for the house slippers he had gotten him.
All these years later, a smile still comes to my face when I think about this. Jerry, I miss you so much.
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It’s not 1962 anymore, but Christmastime still rolls around every year. If you need someone to help you wrap some of those presents, count me out 😉
Hope you all have a good weekend. See you back here on Sunday.
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