If the story is correct, my father and his mother-in-law (my mother’s grandmother) never got along. Their lives was one elongated aggravating gunfights where one side just can’t find and kill the guy. Each side had the other’s address, what car they drove, knew where they worked (in the case of my father, where he worked that week), and knew each other’s mannerism’s and quirks. As the decades flew, instead of warm conversations and reminiscent thoughts of love, the two would annually replicate the ‘Christmas Truce,’ whereupon Christmas Day, all World War I warring factions ceased, crawled out of the trenches, agreed to share a holiday meal, and returned to trenches after that. I mean, how could one resist wishing the other a Merry Christmas, even though the war will continue? They had a need for chaos. My father delivered.

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