One day several weeks before Christmas I was scanning the local newspaper and noticed an article which peaked my interest. A local Italian restaurant was opening its doors to the needy for free Christmas dinners.
I knew this was something I wanted to be a part of but to go as a civilian, I’d just be another person working the food line serving up meals.
At the time I was a corporal in the First Company Governors Horse Guards, which is part of the CT National Guard. At the next drill night I spoke to my commanding officer and before I could barely finish he said I was to go with orders to participate.
For those of you not familiar with being “under orders” it has several advantages; it would look good for the unit with the higher ups in the chain of command and I would be in uniform representing not only my unit but the the Army.
For me, knowing I’d be going to my mother’s home to a huge Christmas dinner, being able to help those less fortunate was very emotional for me.
At my mother’s house I helped her prepare the meal and without a doubt it was the best every and the last she’d ever have. She died in July of the next year.
It’s these two events, above all, which make December 25, 1996 my most memorable.
If I hear one more debutante declare that they will never marry unless it is for love, well. I shall break my quill! And we all know what happens when I break my quill. Things become very upsetting and it isn’t long before I--- Well, that is quite another story. Let this author, this matriarch, this paragon of society guide you with her infinite wisdom. It is apparent that many of you have gotten this silly notion of love in your head, most likely from American influence, and please do not get me started on those savages. The point, young dears, is that love, is silly. Take for example Lady Aleece, poor young dear never stood a chance! Can you imagine being mauled in public? By a commoner no less? Although, rumors have been running rampant that this very delicious commoner is in fact the Marquess of Somerset, I have my doubts. For one thing, a Marquess should be more unfortunate looking which is clearly not the case with Somerset. Let this be a lesson dear readers. If you marry for love, there is a very big chance that you will end up with your heart broken, or in that wretched commoners case—kidnapped (though many believe he should have been killed for even breathing the same air as our fair lady). Dear readers, have I taught you nothing this holiday season?—Mrs. Peabody’s Society Papers.