My Father worked long hours six days a week, so there was not much time for father-son things. Those few times when we touched at a deep level are very precious to me. One of them was Christmas, especially Christmas morning.

We four children had hung our stockings and left fruit cake and wine for Santa Claus on the hearth. It was always consumed. Early Christmas morning Daddy went into the rooms, bent down, and whispered into the ear of each child, "Christmas gift."

I was awake instantly. Visions of delight and prospects of miracles danced in my head. I hopped out of bed, grabbed my stocking, crawled back under the warm covers, and dumped the nuts, hard candy, fruit, and a few toys into a sticky mound on the bed. So it was a mess! It was nevertheless good tidings which I could see with m…