By David Valdes Greenwood
Ah, the candy stories of Christmas. presents below the tree. Cookies for Santa. And, after all, the once a year fruitcake.
For younger David Valdes Greenwood, the indomitable “little fruitcake” on the heart of those stories, not anything is sweeter than the promise of the vacations. A modern day Tiny Tim, he holds quick to his excellent of what Christmas may be, regardless of the massive odds opposed to him: Sub-zero Maine winters. a number of eccentric kinfolk. And his consistent foil: a frugal, God-fearing Grammy who turns out made up our minds to carry an finish to all his enjoyable. A ebook that’s “fa-la-la-licious” (Louisville Courier magazine) and packed with humorous, fascinating xmas thoughts (from development a Lego® manger to looking for the correct Christmas tree), a bit Fruitcake will motivate even the most important Grinches round.
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Additional info for A Little Fruitcake: A Childhood in Holidays
And though I remained obedient most of the time, my “good” behavior was a reflection not of moral superiority but rather of a healthy instinct for self-preservation. If I thought I would get caught at something illicit, I just didn’t do it. If I could get away with something undetected, though, I was all over it. One gorgeous day, for instance, I had sassed back to Mom, who grounded me in the house, barring me from a moment’s play outside. But as soon as she left on an errand, I bolted through the front door, aware that Grammy had not caught wind of my grounding.
Grammy had even set rules for it: we could play on the rooftops, but if even a sliver of light peeked through the big window on our porch, it was game over. Ignacio and I considered ourselves lucky because the guy who plowed our driveway usually banked the snow by the porch, helping to cover the wide picture window sooner than nature alone would allow. The banked snow made it a breeze to climb up to the top, where we’d wander around proudly at perilous heights. That year, with so much snow so soon, was going to be an exceptional one for playing on the roof.
Not Really Santa’s voice was tight and decidedly lacking in cheer. “Yeah,” Ignacio said. ” And just like that, Santa turned his back on us, without offering so much as a “ho, ho, ho” or a candy cane for the trip home. ” we headed out the glass door into the parking lot. Admittedly, this wasn’t our finest moment as young citizens. But for brothers more prone to sabotaging each other than to teamwork, our wicked romp was a brief moment of true bonding. For the rest of that season, we remained united in our efforts to keep all the grown-ups assured of our belief.