I'm a lot like my mother. When I discover something good I want to keep it around for a while. She too had realized that the electricity was coming on sooner than we wanted. All her light switches were off and it would be only by accident that our secret would be discovered.
Someone mentioned music and my dad disappeared. Before anyone missed him, he came stomping in from the barn. In his arms he carried an old wind-up Victrola and several slate records. We cleared the dinning room and set the music machine up next to the red cedar Christmas tree. Daddy turned the crank until it was wound tight. The time of truth was at hand. Would it play?
Scratchy, high-pitched music emerged from the black box. Bing Crosby sang "White Christmas" and everyone clapped. For the rest of the afternoon, we listened to voices of the past singing our favorite old tunes. The children munched on popcorn and listened to stories about our favorite childhood experiences. Before we knew it, the sky was getting dark and chores were going to be late getting done. Everyone bundled up and left for their dark homes.
We only had a little walk to our house from my parents' home. The air was crisp and the children rambled on and on about how wonderful the day had been. I entered our front door and reached over to turn on the light switch. My hand lingered on the plastic knob that would bring the future back to the past. I smiled a secret smile and slowly put my hand back into my coat pocket. No, not yet, just one more night. "Is the wood box full?" I asked my husband as I reached for a match to light the candles.
Because of family circumstances I was unable to show any pictures. Please accept my apology. Thank you...
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