Christmas 1956 . . . .

In 1956, we were living in Garden Grove, California. Paul had celebrated his second birthdy in August. Our beautiful dog, Duffer, a Border Collie-Shepherd mix, was four. He was Paul's best friend. George's mother was living with us.

I was pregnant and had a due date of December 23rd. Thinking there was a chance I would deliver early, I had been frantically doing my Christmas shopping. As if that wasn't enough, George's brother Jack had stopped by after a fishing trip with a huge tuna he had caught. The smell of the fish turned by stomach but I felt I needed to do something with it and so I had spent the whole day canning. When I finished, I decided I needed to clean my stove and oven. By the time George got home, I was feeling terrible and ended up rushing to the hospital. Thank goodness, Mom was there to be with Paul. We were so happy when the baby was born and Dr. Bartel told us it was a little girl and she was just fine. For being almost a month early, she wasn't as tiny as we had feared. She weighed just over 6 lbs, but by the time we left the hospital, she had lost several ounces. I was happy to be home and have our baby before Christmas.

Paul had told Santa he wanted cowboy stuff for Christmas because he was "a real cowboy". He also said he "needed" trucks and a train. He and George picked out the tree and brought it home. Paul was so excited to decorate it. I had always had a fetish about putting icicles on my tree. I used hundreds and hundreds of them and they had to be just right, starting from the trunk out to the tip of each branch. Needles to say, Paul did not put them on that way, but he was having such a good time I didn't have the heart to say anything. I waited until he finally went to bed and then I redid them.

Very early the next morning, we were awakened by a loud crash. We ran into the living room just as Duffer disappeared behind the couch. Paul was sitting in the middle of the floor with the tree tipped over and almost on top of him. There were some ornaments in a pile in the recliner and broken ones all over the floor. It seems he and Duffer had been redecorating the tree. Paul looked at us with a big grin and said, "Duffer did it. Bad dog!" But then, explaining it to us as only a two year old can, he said he wanted to see the angel on the top of the tree and so he was climbing up to it. It took us a while to get Duffer to come out from behind the couch. He finally came out with his tail between his legs, covered with pieces of broken ornaments, icicles, and pine needles. Poor dog, I think he actually thought he tipped the tree over.

I'm sure I remained calm?? We had to purchase some new ornaments and for the third time, I painstakingly placed the icicles on the tree.

It was a wonderful Christmas, though. Rhonda was a beautiful baby and we were so delighted with her. Paul loved his "cowboy stuff"; notice his hat, boots, and guitar. He also loved his train and trucks. Duffer was out of "the doghouse", and little Rhonda Loie was just loving the fuss we were all making over her.