Mrs. Olen Ray McFadden was our first “gifted” person.
What fun playing Santa again. We did it when our children were small, then they grew up and scoffed at having to empty their stockings of the moldy apples and chewing gum.
Today Norma, Daddy and I got another chance. We went to the nursing home in West Point to deliver all the wonderful gifts that my Marganita sistahs brought to our Christmas party last week. Someday I’ll reveal the awful truth about why the girls of the West Point High School Class of ’65 call ourselves the Marganitas. But it must wait until there’s only one of us left – kind of like Deep Throat and the Nixon scandal.
We’d decided not to exchange presents this year since we all had enough stuff to fill several storage units. Instead, everyone brought a gift for an elderly person. Now hush your mouth! I know we’re not spring chickens ourselves, but thankfully there are still people on the planet older than we.
So we collected all kinds of wonderful things – lap blankets, sugar free candies, house shoes, lotions, perfumes, you name it. (We bought the stuff we’re beginning to be drawn to, I guess.)
We delivered it today to the Dugan Home where my father was chief of staff for many years. It was fun and Norma and I got a chance to scope out a good place to spend our Golden Years.
Don’t you love Norma’s new “Do?” I picked her up at the Salon and I could tell the hair designers were itching to get me in a chair.
Thanks to all the Marganitas for their generous gifts. Just remember girls, one day soon, a new generation of “sustahs” may be delivering stuff to us. We should be so lucky.
Incidentally, Norma and I discovered a rarely used door at the Dugan where we can make our escape from the home when we feel the need to kick up our heels. Daddy was very concerned about that unlocked door. I hope he doesn’t ruin it for us the way he did in high school.