Here is the land of snow and old Roche and Fischer stories. Harbors are frozen and geese form noisy v-shapes criss-crossing the skies. The prayers Grandpa Roche prays are straight to the point. "For life, for food, for family, Lord, we thank you." And the turkey is on the table right next to Uncle Bill, even the family vegetarians venture a taste. It doesn't seem possible to have such a roaring fire in such a tiny living room, but Grandpa's furnace is a new, efficient model that he's proud of, although Grandma misses the way the old one looks. And even though I miss opening stockings on my parents' bed in Florida, the fire is something we actually need here, which is a nice change. Later, we'll go eat pie and root-beer floats with a million other cousins, aunts, and uncles, and probably toss a few snowballs at each others' faces. Merry Christmas from the little Roche-infested township of Union Springs, New York.
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