Behind the Lines: by David Heiller

David Heiller My Favorite Christmas Danny and I were getting frustrated. Christmas Day, 1963, was fast approaching, and we had rattled every box under the tree. We had rummaged through Mom’s closet, stepping on her shoes, lifting her skirts and coats, climbing up to the shelf. We were following our own Christmas tradition of trying to find out what Mom had bought us. And we had struck out. Usually   we unearthed something, a chemistry set, a pair of skates new socks or mittens. One mid-December we found a six-foot toboggan behind the cellar door. It was a painful discovery because we couldn’t use it for the next two weeks, and had to act surprised. On Christmas morning, my sister Jeanne peered at us and stated firmly, “You knew it was there, didn’t you?” “No way,” we said, trying to save face. It didn’t wash with Jeanne. What a miserable way to get a great present. We loved it. But we drew a blank in 1963. That Christmas Eve, we tossed in our beds, Danny and I, long af...