

My kids (age 3 and 2) are toilet papering the house whilst I write this post, so I'll get to the point (quickly).
During the holiday season when I was a little girl, my grandfather took me to see my first theater performance: Babes in Toyland. I'll always remember how special I felt to be all dressed up and fancy, going on a "date" with Granddad. The years following he took me to see The Christmas Carol; both were performed at the Horton Plaza theater (the Lyceum). These annual excursions with Granddad always included a trip to a bookstore (our favorite was Wahrenbrock's Book House, a 3-story used bookstore), and dinner downtown. (I have vague memories of eating turtle soup at the Grant Hotel, sharing roasted chestnuts with Granddad on a sidewalk, and entering the Panda Inn as if it were a 5-star restaurant.)
Nostalgic holiday memories aside, I'm currently reading this book to my children at bedtime:

Inside, there's an inscription from my Granddad:

My grandmother recently gave me some of Granddad's books (he passed away 6 years ago), and one of them was a copy of Dicken's The Christmas Carol.

It had been a gift from his grandchildren:


In Memory of:
Charles
(my Granddad)
P.S. That took the length of 2 1/2 rolls of toilet paper to write.