To the Editor:
I want to tell you what happened to me.
It started with one surprise, telling me that I was chosen for the 12 Days of Christmas.
Each day, or I should say, night, I received a sack with numbered things in it such as candy Santas coated with chocolate made of marshmallow and a jingle that rhymed.
"Homemade Fudge on Day No. 9. Hope there's no bulge in your waist line."
I didn't go to bed until 10:30-11 p.m., each night and one night, I turned out the lights and stood on a small stool looking out the top glass of our steel front door trying to catch whomever was leaving these little treats.
I just couldn't stay on that stool for more than 30 minutes, and did not catch them.
On Day No. 12 (night), I didn't catch them and found a basket of fruit and a Christmas card with some jumbled names that said if I could figure them out, I could call them.
Rahas, Lechar, Dnali, and Ndo Yneowd.
It didn't take long for me to figure it out, and I phoned them and learned that I really give them a tussel by staying up so late. And I never did catch any of them, to.
I appreciated their efforts so much as it was a very low point in my life, just after losing mother (my wife).
Hope you didn't get bored reading such a fine, 12-day treat. You don't hear of these anymore.
Marion "Sarge" Eveland,