I have been practicing in the spare room again—you know, the one with the antique music cabinet full of goodies. Here's what I found.
It's a Christmas card I made for my family when I was a kid. Based on the workmanship and the level of poetic skill, you'd think I was six or seven when I made this thing. The sad fact is I made it when I was thirteen, judging by the number of characters I glued on to represent my family. My niece Lizard was two days shy of her first birthday that year, so she would have been the tiny orange blob next to the tree.
In case you can't make out my lovely cursive writing, here is the poem:
I hope this Christmas morning
when you receive my gift
you'll have a great big smile,
and have a great big lift.
I give it to you on this day.
It's not very much, I know.
But this here present that I give you now
I wrapped myself with a bow.
The room is warm and happy.
It's full of spirit and cheer.
There's a couch, a chair, a pretty tree
and nine different people here.
They come each year on Christmas day
to make the season bright.
Each Christmas, Easter, and Thanksgiving,
each day and every night.
So when this day is over
and all our work is done,
You won't forget our pretty tree.
You won't forget the fun.
I have no idea what gift it was that I wrapped myself. It may well have been just this card. I loved Christmas more than anything when I was a kid, and I soaked up every minute of the sentimental stuff that went on—cookies, ornaments, carols, lights, movies, and clearly the cards.
This is me in the 8th grade. I suspect I had a permanent at some point before picture day, because normally my hair is poker straight.
It's a Christmas card I made for my family when I was a kid. Based on the workmanship and the level of poetic skill, you'd think I was six or seven when I made this thing. The sad fact is I made it when I was thirteen, judging by the number of characters I glued on to represent my family. My niece Lizard was two days shy of her first birthday that year, so she would have been the tiny orange blob next to the tree.
In case you can't make out my lovely cursive writing, here is the poem:I hope this Christmas morning
when you receive my gift
you'll have a great big smile,
and have a great big lift.
I give it to you on this day.
It's not very much, I know.
But this here present that I give you now
I wrapped myself with a bow.
The room is warm and happy.
It's full of spirit and cheer.
There's a couch, a chair, a pretty tree
and nine different people here.
They come each year on Christmas day
to make the season bright.
Each Christmas, Easter, and Thanksgiving,
each day and every night.
So when this day is over
and all our work is done,
You won't forget our pretty tree.
You won't forget the fun.
I have no idea what gift it was that I wrapped myself. It may well have been just this card. I loved Christmas more than anything when I was a kid, and I soaked up every minute of the sentimental stuff that went on—cookies, ornaments, carols, lights, movies, and clearly the cards.
This is me in the 8th grade. I suspect I had a permanent at some point before picture day, because normally my hair is poker straight.
Comments
You were such a cutie (as well you know). I love the way your hair flicks up at the temples. Boy, I bet you'd hate that now!
And that is one serious shirt!
I really like the seventies look to you in the pic you have a bit of a smirk on your face that intrigues me.
Cheers Robyn!!
Your poem showed a hint of your future expressive skills there. What a nice memory to stumble upon. I love that shirt you are wearing. Why didn't I get to wear more groovy clothes like that? I only wore plaid and conservative stuff at that age.
Our new French Horn player in town played a solo in church Sunday and it was beautiful! I thought of you. Some of us choir members were talking about her piece and realized there were four of us right there in a row that played F. horn in school. It kind of made us want to see if we could still get a note out of one. I know my chops would be sorely lacking. ;)
Rich, it isn't a very big cabinet, but it's where I keep my childhood.
Lynn, I must have known something, but I can't imagine what.
Shan, all it takes is a little work and determination. Get out those horns and play!
Mme. Benaut, my mother believed girls should have curly hair, so we all had perms very early on. I know I had one when I was ten. I think this one came a couple of years after that one had grown out.
I agree with Rich and Lynn, I think your smirk was hiding a rebel streak. Kinda cute.