Ghosts of Christmas Eves Past

It’s the afternoon of Christmas Eve and I am thinking of a time in the mid to late 70s when I would come home from college for Christmas. My dad owned a shoe store (Maney’s Van Wert Bootery) and I would work at the store during the Christmas holidays to help out with the extra traffic. On Christmas Eve afternoon, about 3, we would head over to Cy Voorst’s store for some Christmas cheer. Cy owned a sewing machine shop on the NW corner of Main and Washington streets and every year he made some of the most God-awful wine you ever wanted to taste (at least to my palate). But on Christmas Eve it did not matter. It was all good. The bad wine, the cheese, the fellowship, the Christmas spirit that emanated from my dad. Rest in peace Cy and papa. Christmas Eve, while still glorious and joyful, is not the same without you.