Another reason I’m calling this the Year of the Nostalgic Christmas is Abraham Lincoln. Not the president, really, but the children’s picture book from 1939.
When I was very young, the library at St. John’s Lutheran School had a copy of this book, and I checked it out often. I couldn’t get enough of the illustrations. I didn’t know that the book was by sophisticated artists who had won the Caldecott Medal in 1940.
I’m calling 2018 the Year of the Nostalgic Christmas. Everywhere I turn, I’m swept up in memories of my childhood Christmases. They’ve pressed down on me so frequently and with such ferocity that I’ve been finding the items in thrift stores, antique shops and online auctions. Most of the time, I wasn’t even looking for them.
When I around four or five, all I wanted in life was a Chatty Cathy. You may remember from the early 1960s that she was a talking doll with a sweet face, and you could get extra outfits for her. If I could have only one Christmas present that year, then fine, as long as it was a Chatty Cathy. Nothing else mattered.