God bless us, everyone. (At least, I guess that’s how it ends. I never got to see the end.)

Last night Mike was talking about purchasing the DVD of Mickey’s Christmas Carol, and I was reminded of a sad, sad story. You see, I have never seen the end of Mickey’s Christmas Carol. I didn’t know it was on every year, but I do remember starting to watch it one evening when it was on TV when I was, oh, seven or eight. That particular evening I happened to be very sick, probably with a cough. I had bronchitis a lot as a child, and I’m pretty sure that’s what it was. And I was coughing so much that my dad decided to take me to . . . I guess it would have been the emergency room? Maybe some kind of late-night clinic (keep in mind, I was small, and it was dark outside, but that doesn’t mean it was all that late. I’d guess maybe 8:00-ish)? Anyway, I had to go to the doctor. I was desperately trying to keep from coughing, just so I could see the end of the show. But I had to go anyway.

What I remember is being in the waiting room for a while, and then getting into the examination room (which, for some reason, I was really hoping would have a television so I could see the end of Mickey’s Christmas Carol even though I have never seen a doctor’s examination room with a television) and waiting for the doctor. And at some point, I said, “Daddy, do you think the show will still be on when we get home?” He said, “No, I don’t think so.” And I was really sad. I think I might even have told the doctor about missing it. And I think if my dad had known how much I wanted to watch it and how long we were going to have to wait, he might have just let me see it and taken me to the doctor after it was over. But maybe not. I might have been really sick. I don’t remember how sick I was, but I do remember desperately wanting to see the end of the show.

Of course, by the time we got home, it was indeed over, and for some reason my family never watched it again in later years. We watched Charlie Brown and Rudolph, but not Mickey. Maybe Mickey got moved to cable, which we didn’t have, or maybe it’s just because my dad doesn’t really like cartoons. I remember seeing a Mickey’s Christmas Carol book and wanting to read it, but knowing it wouldn’t be the same. Somehow I got to the age of 26 without ever having seen the end. And every time I think of it, I think of that night and how desperately I wanted to see it and how hard I tried to keep from coughing and how sad I was about the whole thing. At this point, I think I should deliberately avoid it, because it makes a much better story, don’t you think? So don’t tell me how it ends, because I’d really rather not know.

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