Friday, December 25, 2015

Merry Christmas!


Since you obviously would have nothing better to do on this day, why not pop over to the Boston Herald website - or, better yet, go out and buy the Boston Herald - so you can read my column on today's op-ed page?

It's actually Christmas-related, if that helps. As a matter of fact, it's specifically about Christmas. So there.

Anyway, I wish you all a Very Merry Christmas. If you do go to read it, I thank you most sincerely (hint: that's part of what it's about.)

Soon, with more better stuff (but certainly not better than that which we celebrate today, so enjoy!)


9 comments:

Jackie said...

I love this....
Merry Christmas to you and your family.

joeh said...

Excellent story!

joeh said...

In almost forgot...Merry Christmas!

messymimi said...

You've told that story, in a more detailed way, before, and i love it every time i read it. The love is the thing.

A blessed and beautiful Christmas to you and all whom you love!

(not necessarily your) Uncle Skip, said...

I may have said this before:
O Henry has nothing on you as a story teller.

Shammickite said...

Love is what counts, all year round.

happe2bme said...

This has nothing to do with Merry Christmas but in a way....... My nephew Charlie sent me a blog you wrote in 2008 about Charle's store, Sanford St , Dorchester, Ma. I guess he thought it was kind of a Christmas thing to do? I cried through most of it. I am Charlie's daughter. I don't remember you and I thought I knew them alL . Yes, the big stores killed his business but after the last hold up when someone put a knife to his throat, he was done.

I remember him climbing up to the second floor weary from work. He worked longer hours to keep up. My mother was ready with the supper and of course he wanted her to sit and eat with him. She had already cooked for me and herself so this was her second supper. He stayed skinny, she did not and he would tease her about that. He would get yelled at if he started making way for my room to say goodnight but that didn't stop him. I could feel his scruffy face as he leaned over to kiss me.

The kids who hung out at his store were all given nicknames by him. He loved them all. Every single one of them. I remember the tabs and probably something not too many knew. When he was in the hospital and I worked at the store I took those tabs to him and told him I was going to collect. He got mad, said that it was a shame to be asking them for money. They would give it to him when they could. I still have those tabs in a cardboard cigar box.

Well, I have a zillion memories too many to write on this comment but this is 2015 and imagine I just read your blog from 2008. Thank you for honoring his memory and the store he loved and the children he never would have dreamed still remember him. All God's blessings to you and yours for the best year ever. Thank you thank you thank you. Antoinette Capobianco McGowan

Suldog said...

happe2bme - Thank you very much for writing to me about your Dad. And thank you for offering me blessings and thank yous. I would have written this reply to you via e-mail, but I don't have your address.

I find, via you and Charlie, that there were things I didn't know about your Dad. Well, of course, I'm not family, so I wouldn't be privy to everything. However, I never knew that some folks didn't pay their tabs. It was just like your Dad to say what he did, about folks paying them when they had a chance. He was a great guy. I hope I put that sentiment across in my story. Anything less than that and I failed.

I also don't remember him being held up, but it could have happened some week or two when I wasn't around the neighborhood and then not mentioned when I was back. Or maybe I have a selective memory that likes to recall only the best things. I don't know. What I do know is if I knew who did it, I'd kick his ass...

I had other nicknames when I was a kid and a teenager; very few called me Jim or Jimmy. Your Dad may have called me Sully; I get confused about who called me what, so many years later. I was also known as Pel sometimes. I was hard to miss. I had long bright orange hair and was skinny as a rail. Usually had pretty long red sideburns, too. In any case, as I said to your nephew, Charlie was someone we truly loved. I don't know that we ever used that particular word in speaking to him, but I hope we let him know that in other ways. He was a very important person in all of our lives and he is missed dearly. Thanks again for writing!

Shammickite said...

Great reply, Jim, to a very heartfelt comment from Charlie's daughter. Sounds like Charlie was a great chap.