I had a big doll. It had a porcelain head and neck and arms and legs, and the body was stuffed cloth. I think the doll wore a simple slip, and that was it. She didn’t have a change of clothes. She was barefoot. The doll was almost as big as I was, and I would carry her around with me all the time. I would carry her by the neck. I must have been three years old at most. Everyone told me I should carry her by her torso or she would break. Apparently, even back then, I didn’t listen to advice very well, and one day the doll’s head did indeed come off. I remember my shock and anguish.

I remember when I learned how to write, and I wrote my name in chalk all over the inside of the garage. I can’t help wondering if learning to write your name is a stage in developing ego. Maybe even receiving a letter with your name on it is ego-forming because we learn to differentiate ourselves. In primitive societies where there is no writing, I wonder if they may not have ego so much or at all.

I remember learning to tie my shoes.

I remember when getting up in the morning was wonderful and exciting every day. I remember when I didn’t want to go to bed at night.

I remember that next door to the grocery store my mother and father had, there was a shoe-shine shop. When I was very young, I would go over there and say, “Shoe shine, Georgie.�? And Georgie would sit me up in a chair and always at least rub my shoes with a cloth.

I can remember running and tripping and scraping my knees a lot. I don’t remember where I was running to.

I remember I used to catch pollywogs.

I remember my father would use me to fetch him his glasses or the newspaper or anything, and I was so very happy to.

I remember how my mother would come into a room and say, “Are you working for the electric company again?”

I imagine there is no end to the memories.

And now I will tell you about a Christmas memory as well.

At Christmas time, my daughter and I used to read two stories out loud together. This is when she was in the upper grades of elementary school and continued on for many many years, even college. I don’t know when it stopped. This is undoubtedly the closest we ever came to having a Christmas tradition.

We would read A Christmas Memory by Truman Capote. This is truly one of the world’s finest short stories. And we would read Two Soldiers by William Faulkner which is also one of the most touching stories in the world. Both stories will make you both happy and sad. I think the word is bittersweet. I defy you not to cry.

These are two true love stories. If you never read anything else in your life, these are two stories you must read and tell us what you think.

Last night Lauren read A Christmas Memory out loud to me once again, and it is still wonderful. You can find it on the internet. We weren’t able to find Two Soldiers by Faulkner on the internet, however.

And what was your Christmas Eve like?