Eva Pasco's Blog - Posts Tagged "292"
Eva’s Byte #292 – Stardust Memories
Inspired by “Stardust,” a song recorded by Nat King Cole in 1957.
Stealing across the meadows of my heart, the refrain of stardust memories from Christmases of yesteryear during childhood and adolescence.
One stardust memory, in particular, was joy riding through cities dressed in holiday style. Streets adorned with garlands strung from one side to the other, and centered by wreaths dangling in the middle formed a never-ending arch.
At the urging of my mother, sister and I, my dad would oblige our request to take off to find the bright lights. We’d file in our station wagon and assume our usual positions, my sister and I at opposite ends in the back seat.
Off we’d go hither, thither, and yon to Providence, Pawtucket, or Cranston on any given evening leading up to Christmas.
Our favorite excursion, by far, was Garden City in Cranston.
Another favorite stardust memory is how my father went to great lengths in perpetuating our belief in magic. As cited in my Nonfiction Memoir collection, 100 Wild Mushrooms: Memoirs of the ‘60s—Memoir #69 -The Christmas Conspiracy:
In 1961, for my sister’s benefit, my father got the notion to drive us to Boston on Christmas Eve where Santa was purported to have been holed up to greet boys and girls. My sister cast a pall over my father’s good intentions as soon as he pulled out of the driveway, whining her concerns about whether we’d be home in time for her to fall asleep before Santa came down our chimney.
By the time we arrived at Boston Commons, having spotted Santa mingling with children who’d also made the pilgrimage, my father plowed through a throng of people. He approached the red-suited fella, pointed to where we stood, and bent Santa’s ear long enough to persuade him to tell my sister he wouldn’t be taking off for the star-studded skies until much later. When it was her turn to tick off her wish list and tell him what a good girl she’d been all year, Santa allayed her fears and winked at my father.
*At this juncture in time when a pandemic modifies our holiday gathering plans, it’s more important than ever to haul out the holly, put up the tree, and make merry to create stardust memories.
My sincere appreciation if you’ve read this far.
Eva’s Authors Den Page: https://tinyurl.com/yycm7d2w
Stealing across the meadows of my heart, the refrain of stardust memories from Christmases of yesteryear during childhood and adolescence.
One stardust memory, in particular, was joy riding through cities dressed in holiday style. Streets adorned with garlands strung from one side to the other, and centered by wreaths dangling in the middle formed a never-ending arch.
At the urging of my mother, sister and I, my dad would oblige our request to take off to find the bright lights. We’d file in our station wagon and assume our usual positions, my sister and I at opposite ends in the back seat.
Off we’d go hither, thither, and yon to Providence, Pawtucket, or Cranston on any given evening leading up to Christmas.
Our favorite excursion, by far, was Garden City in Cranston.
Another favorite stardust memory is how my father went to great lengths in perpetuating our belief in magic. As cited in my Nonfiction Memoir collection, 100 Wild Mushrooms: Memoirs of the ‘60s—Memoir #69 -The Christmas Conspiracy:
In 1961, for my sister’s benefit, my father got the notion to drive us to Boston on Christmas Eve where Santa was purported to have been holed up to greet boys and girls. My sister cast a pall over my father’s good intentions as soon as he pulled out of the driveway, whining her concerns about whether we’d be home in time for her to fall asleep before Santa came down our chimney.
By the time we arrived at Boston Commons, having spotted Santa mingling with children who’d also made the pilgrimage, my father plowed through a throng of people. He approached the red-suited fella, pointed to where we stood, and bent Santa’s ear long enough to persuade him to tell my sister he wouldn’t be taking off for the star-studded skies until much later. When it was her turn to tick off her wish list and tell him what a good girl she’d been all year, Santa allayed her fears and winked at my father.
*At this juncture in time when a pandemic modifies our holiday gathering plans, it’s more important than ever to haul out the holly, put up the tree, and make merry to create stardust memories.
My sincere appreciation if you’ve read this far.
Eva’s Authors Den Page: https://tinyurl.com/yycm7d2w
