As I've stated before when I think back to my childhood and the holidays, I get a warm, fuzzy feeling. The scent of candles, Christmas cookies, trees, lights, decorations and the family get-togethers. Not to mention the holiday specials on TV, and the Kenosha News Santa coloring page contest. These are my childhood holiday memories.
I've still got some of those pieces of ephemera left. Who can forget the Little Golden Books? (Printed in Racine, Wisconsin no less). I've had cousins and such who had stacks of these pre school mementos, but I myself had just a handful.
But only two really mattered. The only 2 I needed.
"Rudolph" and "Frosty". The soft blue backgrounds on the covers, the retro designs of both characters and indelibly burned into my memories. The simple stories exceeded the still terrific Rankin-Bass TV specials because I could hold them in my tiny hands and behold the glow.
The meaning, the feel of the holiday season seemed to drip out of the little books and seep into my very being. My Mom and Dad read them to me as I sat cozily in their laps and that's when it originated. The warmth of the season.
And I could carry them with me wherever I went and look at them myself, and recharge that holiday warmth.
Guess what? It still kinda works.
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