Pavarotti and Steven Tyler
When I was about nine, I went into Boston at Christmastime with Agnes. Agnes was a widow who lived across the street from me. She shared a house with her brother and sister, and I visited there often. She took me to the circus one time, and to Boston on this occasion.
I can’t remember everything we did, but we were there for most of the day. I picked out a doll—she asked me which one I liked—and purchased it for me. It never occurred to me I’d get it; I thought she simply wanted an opinion.
At the end of the day, she took me to an Italian restaurant called Dini’s. The lights were a little dimmer, and people knew Agnes, which impressed me no end. She introduced me to the adults she knew, and they spoke to me as if I was as important as an adult. At the end of the meal, the man in charge presented me with a gold click pen that had the restaurant’s name on it. I kept that pen for years.
I’m giving you a Christmas carol by a prominent Italian today—Luciano Pavarotti, performing Adeste Fideles.
I’ve been trying to figure out what to write for this entry. I saw The Polar Express years ago, and watch it every Christmas now. My town library runs a Polar Express event for two weekends each year, with elves, trolley rides, and little giveaways for the children. My husband grew up around trains. The details of the train used in the film are all correct, and that pleases him. It pleases me too, since he’s one to point out technical flaws in film.
One of my sisters is an Aerosmith mega fan, and I heard a lot of their music growing up. She still goes to their concerts when possible, and goes into raptures when she discusses anything to do with Steven Tyler. Between her and the film The Polar Express, I had to use Rockin’ on Top of the World.