I thought I knew how to do Christmas: decorate some cookies, write a few cards, sing along with Bing Crosby, hold back tears when nearly all of Bedford Falls packs into Jimmy Stewart’s house at the end of It’s a Wonderful Life. That is until I moved to Hungary. Continue reading
When I was in kindergarten, all I wanted to do was spend my time in the little play store in the corner of the classroom. I’d load the plastic food into brown paper bags for my classmates, take their play money, and drop it in the little red cash register that dinged when the drawer popped open. At my parent teacher conference, my teacher, Mrs. Brooks, told my mom I was a born salesman. She also said I needed to do a better job sharing the cash register. Continue reading
When I was a kid, every December I waited anxiously for Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer to come on TV. My family had a black and white Zenith. So, I had to take Santa’s word for it when Rudolph’s nose turned red. Since then, I figured I’ve sung “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” over 10,000 times. It’s a job requirement for teaching third graders. Continue reading
Of all my Christmas memories, there is one that stands out among the rest. It happened in Budapest several years ago. The Boy Scouts from my school were going to throw a Christmas party at a local orphanage. I’d help chaperone. The children at the orphanage were all preschool age and had severe hearing disabilities. Our Scouts were one of the first groups of foreigners these children would meet. Continue reading
