It's December! Must be time to move again!

I believe that we moved to Rhode Island in December of 1963 when I was 3 years old.

I have vague memories of living in an upstairs apartment and sharing a bedroom with my baby brother and that, to me, the room seemed huge. Also? There was a great big fireplace in my room as well as in mom and dad's room and the living room. This apartment was FULL of fireplaces.

Being 3 and all knowing, I was fully aware that there was such a thing as Santa Claus and that December was a pretty important time of year for him. We got to Rhode Island about a week before Christmas and I was stresssssssed. No one could tell me how the fat man would know that we moved. There were no decorations in our house cause well... they weren't unpacked yet. No tree. Nothing. On Christmas Eve I went to sleep convinced that Santa would never find us since we moved so close to Christmas Eve and we had no decorations or lights to signal him as he flew by. I'm told I was miserable.

Dad "worked late" that night and mom put us to bed early. When dad finally got home, he had a tree and enough cheap decorations and lights to make the living room look like a completely different place. They put presents under that tree and went to bed, their Santa work complete.

In the morning I fully expected... well... nothing. I mean... no one informed Santa of the move. How was he supposed to know? Mom says that the look on our faces when we saw the living room decked out in all it's sneaky-parent-Santa-decor was the best thing ever and that particular Christmas lived in her as the perfect Christmas for a very long time.

Next time - It's that moving thing again...