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From The Publisher's Desk
Do you ever lie in bed at night unable to fall asleep? For the last few weeks, since I discovered that none of my children would be coming home for Christmas, I’ve been counting Christmases at night instead of sheep. Thirty of them since I’ve had children.
Some are easier to remember: the twins’ first Christmas in Hawaii, 1977. They were 6 months old and oblivious to the presents. They preferred to sit on the bench of my old piano in their diapers, banging on the keys, looking up at me with big smiles. That’s one of my favorite photos.
There would be three more Hawaiian Christmases if you count 1980 when we boarded a plane in Honolulu on Christmas afternoon and flew to Portland, Ore. All our earthly belongings including our Dasher wagon had been shipped in a container to the port of Portland. We spent the day after Christmas at the sales in Lloyd Center buying jackets, boots and gloves before driving to Grants Pass to find a home for us and our stuff.
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