My old man was a piece of work. I know of no one who loved Christmas more. Dad had a huge personality. He’s been gone for 33 years, yet I still hear new stories. I often meet some older gent for the first time. He figures out who I am and says “you’re Marston Smith’s boy?” and he gives me a mirthful grin. He then regales me with something my father said or did. Always a chuckle and sometimes an out and out belly laugh.
Christmas would start in early December as folks would come by the house, drop off presents and have a glass or two of spirits with Pop before going back into the cold. Farmers and watermen would drop off the fruit of the labors from the soil and the sea. Dad was a lawyer, and this is how some folks who needed his help, but had no money showed their appreciation.
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