This strange little statue appeared every year at Christmas at my grandmother’s house when I was a child. I’ve always found it a bit creepy, yet somehow I inherited it. On the bottom, my grandmother wrote that it was a gift from my mother in 1961.
This year, I dropped it when removing it from the box in which it’s stored, and off came the tallest boy’s head and hand. A bit of Elmer’s and much swearing later, and all was right with the world. Why I view this odd object with such affection is beyond me, but there you go: nostalgia for our childhoods knows no reasonable bounds.
My Grandmother’s 1961 Pottery Choristers
December 15, 2011