Time Capsule 1980: A Family’s Journey Through Change and Cultural Shifts

Stepping into 1980 feels like opening a time capsule—each memory and milestone woven together to tell the story of a year that was equal parts personal and historic. For my family, it was a year of finding normalcy after the chaos of 1979. We’d weathered Hurricane Frederic and the challenges of the aftermath while living with my grandmother. But in 1980, change came in the form of a little yellow house at the end of Easter Lane in the Holiday Estates subdivision in Mobile, Alabama—a neighborhood that would become the backdrop of our lives until we moved to Florida in the mid-80's. The house wasn’t fancy, but my sister and I had our own rooms and a huge backyard which was nestled at the edge of the woods, it felt like a fresh start. Sadly, that neighborhood was demolished in the early 2000s and the land is now an undeveloped part of the Mobile Regional Airport.

Life at home was simple yet rich with memories. My dad worked long hours as a shipbuilder at the Alabama Drydock and Shipbuilding Company, while my sister spent her days at school. That left me with Mama, who, as a stay-at-home mom, filled our days with purpose and care. Together, we nurtured her vibrant garden, where she seemed to have a magical touch for growing everything—cucumbers, bell peppers, squash, green onions, cantaloupe, carrots, watermelon, and, whimsically, sunflowers. Mama also took up canning, turning our pantry into a treasure trove of bread-and-butter pickles and chow chow. Sundays we’d dress in our best and head to Pleasant View Baptist Church, which anchored othe neighborhood until it, too, was lost to the airport’s expansion. While the church didn’t leave me with much spiritually, it did ignite my love for performing, potlucks, and casseroles. Another vivid memory is Mama’s letter-writing. As I mentioned in a previous blog post, she often penned heartfelt letters to her friend Nancy, my grandma, and other family members. Back then, a stationery set and a book of 15-cent postage stamps were far more affordable than the average long-distance phone call, making letters was Mama's lifeline of connection.

White star was where Pleasent View Baptist Church was, Yellow Star is where the little yellow house we lived in was and the Blue Star marks the spot where the house we rented from Mr. Moon when we moved out of the yellow house a couple of years before we moved to Florida was.

Living on the edge of the woods had its fair share of hazards. The yard teemed with wildlife—rabbits, opossums, and armadillos often wandered through, but so did less welcome guests like pygmy rattlers and cottonmouths. My sister, however, found a fiercely loyal guardian in a calico stray cat that happened upon our yard and stayed, she named Prissy. True to her name, Prissy embodied every bit of that self-assured attitude. She barely tolerated me, reserving all her affection for my sister, but her snake-hunting prowess was unmatched. Prissy was skinny, small but a fearless hunter, often leaving half-dead pygmy rattlers and baby cottonmouths on our front porch as if to flaunt her triumphs.

One of my most poignant memories of that house unfolded a year later, on the day we lost Chip, my beloved beagle. He was my first dog, my best friend, and the most loyal companion a kid could ask for. I named him after a boy I had a crush on, the son of Mrs. Jackson, my kindergarten teacher. Tragically, his curious encounter with an eastern diamondback rattlesnake ended in heartbreak. The bite was severe and with no money for a vet, my dad made the gut-wrenching decision to end Chip's suffering with his rifle. It was an act of mercy, but it shattered my heart. Chip had a doghouse of his own, yet he preferred the crawl space under our house—it was his favorite spot, his safe haven, and it was probably quite cool under there. I missed him deeply and the emptiness he left lingered my dad and sister brought home a beautiful black-and-white English Springer Spaniel puppy I named Pickles.

Not Chip but he looks pretty close.

Beyond the walls of our yellow house, 1980 was alive with stories—some that shook the world and others that delighted it. Economically, the cost of living looked wildly different from today. The median yearly income for families was $21,023 and the minimum wage was a mere $3.10 an hour. It costs $3,499 on average for tuition at a four year college, including room and board. A new home would set you back around $64,600, while a gallon of gas cost just $1.25, and a new refrigerator with a water dispenser and icemaker was probably cheaper than a VCR, which was priced at $699—an astronomical sum for the latest tech. Being that a VCR was out of financial reach of most, a basic movie ticket was around $2.69, not including popcorn and a soda.

Politically, Jimmy Carter was president, with Walter Mondale as his vice president, though Reagan and Bush were elected in November. The U.S. population stood at approximately 227.2 million, while the world population reached 4.4 billion. International tensions ran high; frustrated by the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan and the Iran hostage crisis, President Carter announced a boycott of the Moscow Summer Olympics and imposed sanctions on Iran. Meanwhile, on January 28, six U.S. diplomats staged a daring escape from Iran during the hostage crisis by posing as Canadians.

Carter and Reagan

In cultural milestones, The eruption of Mount St. Helens in Washington kills 57 people and causes over $1 billion in damage, CNN launched on June 1 as the first 24-hour news network, revolutionizing how we consumed news. On February 22, the U.S. Olympic hockey team delivered the legendary "Miracle on Ice," defeating the Soviet Union in Lake Placid. And on December 8, the world mourned as John Lennon was tragically shot outside his New York apartment.

Mt. St. Helens when it began to erupt, in 1980

The entertainment world thrived. At the Oscars, Ordinary People took home Best Picture, while Robert De Niro and Sissy Spacek were awarded Best Actor and Best Actress for their performances in Raging Bull and Coal Miner’s Daughter, respectively. On television, new shows like Bosom Buddies and Magnum, P.I. premiered, while beloved classics such as The Rockford Files, Barnaby Jones, Love of Life and Hawaii Five-O aired their finales. In theaters, The Empire Strikes Back dominated the box office, earning its place in cinematic history despite initial mixed reviews.

Children immersed themselves in the joys of toys and games, with Rubik’s Cubes—my sister's obsession, which she eventually mastered—Spirograph, Holly Hobbie dolls, Hot Wheels & Matchbox cars, the Barbie Dreamhouse, Lite-Brite, and my personal favorite, Strawberry Shortcake dolls. Meanwhile, bookworms lost themselves in captivating reads like The Bourne Identity by Robert Ludlum, A People's History of the United States by Howard Zinn, Firestarter by Stephen King, and Cosmos by Carl Sagan.

In sports, the Philadelphia Phillies captured the World Series, the Los Angeles Lakers dominated the NBA, and the Georgia Bulldogs claimed NCAA football glory. For horse racing fans, Genuine Risk became a Kentucky Derby champion, while Seve Ballesteros triumphed at the PGA Masters Tournament.

The year 1980 welcomed the birth of numerous future stars, including Lin-Manuel Miranda, Christina Ricci, Zooey Deschanel, Macaulay Culkin, Ryan Gosling, Kristen Bell, and Jake Gyllenhaal. However, it was also a year of poignant losses. Icons such as Alfred Hitchcock, Jimmy Durante, Colonel Sanders, Steve McQueen, Mae West and heartbreakingly, John Lennon left the world. Lennon's tragic death left an indelible mark on history and the hearts of millions.

Jake Gyllenhaal

Looking back, 1980 was a year of contrasts. For my family, it was about building a life, growing a garden and navigating the challenges of everyday life For the world, it was a year of triumphs, tragedies, and cultural shifts. What about you? Do you remember 1980? Whether it’s a favorite toy, a beloved song, or a family story, I’d love to hear your memories. Share them in the comments, and if this story brought a smile (or a spark of nostalgia), your support helps keep these stories alive.

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I'm 49 years old today: The Sweetness of Memories: Coconut Cakes and Birthdays

Today, on my 49th birthday, I find myself reflecting on the memories that have shaped my life. While I don't usually receive many gifts, your comments and shared stories would mean the world to me and add joy to this special day.

As a child, my birthdays were a time of great anticipation—not for the presents, which were usually modest compared to Christmas, but for Mama's cakes. Baking was her passion, and while the house often smelled of her favorite pecan or walnut treats during holidays, my birthday cake was something special.

Growing up, I was accustomed to Mama's delightful yellow and chocolate cakes. Occasionally, we'd have carrot cake, and in the mid-1980s, Mama began experimenting with an applesauce spice cake that had a delicious glaze-like icing. She would bake it weekly to keep on the counter for us to snack on. However, my sister and I stopped eating it after what we humorously called "the time Mama tried to kill Granny." Long story short, Granny was visiting us and had a piece of Mama's spice cake. Within minutes, Daddy was driving her to the hospital. Though the cake had nothing to do with it, we couldn't get over the incident. Despite that, Mama's cakes were generally unforgettable.

Mama had an uncanny ability to remember and cherish the little things we liked, and this was especially true for my birthday cakes. Around 1979 or 1980, when we lived in the little yellow house on Easter Lane in Mobile, Alabama, Mama baked a coconut cake for our Easter gathering at Granny's house. Easter celebrations were a feast, with Dad and my uncles manning the grill, rocking out chicken, burgers, steak and whatever else they brought from the grocery store, or hunting trips. Granny and Aunt Joan preparing side dishes, like fried okra, fried squash and onions, purple hulled peas, lima beans, cornbread and all of their specialities. A then there was my Mama contributing desserts and her famous deviled eggs, potato salad, rich with onions, hardboiled eggs, mustard, and bell peppers.

But it was that coconut cake that stole the show for me. My four-year-old self boldly declared it the best cake I'd ever had, a proclamation that Mama took to heart. From that year forward, my birthday cake was always a coconut cake. For the first few years, it was great but later on, I never had the heart to tell her I might have enjoyed a bit of variety; her love and care baked into each cake made every birthday special.

As I grew older, I realized Mama had a baker's talent that could have rivaled any professional. Her cakes, pies, and confections were family treasures. Recently, my sister sent me a trove of Mama's recipes—handwritten index cards and printed sheets that spanned decades, some even from her high school home economics class. Flipping through a recent Magnolia magazine by Joanna Gaines, I was surprised and delighted to find Mama's peanut butter cookie recipe featured on a page, a testament to her enduring culinary legacy. I had no idea Mama knew Joanna Gaines but apparently she did.

Today, on my 49th birthday, I can't help but reflect on those coconut cakes and the love they represented. While I've yet to find Mama's exact recipe, I've come close with the Duncan Hines Dolly Parton Coconut Cake Mix. I suspect Mama's version might have come from the Better Homes and Gardens cookbook, the one with the red plaid cover, eventually I will get around to finding out. I know her Thanksgiving and Christmas dressing is pretty close to what's in that book, as well as her lasagne.

I never imagined reaching 50—thought I'd check out in my late 20s—but here I am, still rocking along. As I celebrate today, memories of Mama's coconut cakes bring warmth and sweetness to my heart.

Thank you for letting me share this cherished memory with you. If it inspired a touch of nostalgia or a bit of joy, that's gift enough for me. 🎂💖

Strikes, Spares, and Butter Cookies: My Childhood Bowling Alley Adventure

 

When I was around 3 or 4 years old, my parents joined a bowling league in Mobile, Alabama. Every week, like clockwork, my sister and I would be taken along to the bustling bowling alley. I have no idea what it was called or where in Mobile it was located, this was over 45 years ago. It's just a fragmented part of my memory now, but I can vividly remember my mama, daddy, my sister Becki and the kind lady at the snack bar. The friends my parents played with on the league, however, are a blur. This was before I started kindergarten and I really feel it happened before we lived with my granny and definitely before we moved to the little yellow house at the end of Easter Lane.

My parents seemed to enjoy every moment, laughing and chatting with their teammates while rolling those heavy bowling balls down the polished lanes. I am not sure if they were any good, but their smiles and laughter tell me that they were having a blast.

I remember sitting with my sister as she played arcade games and wandered around the snack bar. The smell of bowling alley nachos and hot dogs filled the air, mixing with the occasional whiff of beer from the bar. The lady who worked the snack bar was always kind to me, sharing her stash of butter cookies with the hole in the center. I loved putting them on my fingers and eating them off one by one, savoring each sweet bite.

I often watched bowling on TV with my dad, expecting to see my mama and daddy competing with the professionals. In my young mind, they were just as skilled and deserving of the spotlight. The bright and colorful bowling balls for sale always caught my eye. I dreamed of owning a vibrant pink or neon green one someday, though that wish never quite came true.

Those nights at the bowling alley hold a special place in my heart, though it's not exactly a strong memory. The simple joy of being with my parents getting along for a night, the arcade games, and the sweet butter cookies made it all magical.

What about you? Do you have any favorite bowling memories or funny stories to share? Drop a comment below and let me know what you love about bowling! And if you enjoyed reading this story, a small token of appreciation would mean the world to me. 😊

A New York Holiday: An Unexpected Date and 'Home Alone 2' Adventure 1992

Home Alone 2 Lost In New York

This story is part of a chapter from my book. It recounts a sweet moment during a time when I wasn't getting along with Erik, who was more of a friend but sort of my boyfriend. In this story, I meet a random man in an arcade, lie to him about being stood up by a blind date and he steps in as my date for the night. I hope you enjoy this story as much as I enjoyed living and reliving the moment while writing it.

In December of 1992, I found myself in the heart of New York City, a place brimming with holiday magic and bustling energy. Amidst the bright lights of Times Square, I was on my own, in my own personal Winter Wonderland. While playing pinball at the Playland Arcade, an older gentleman kept coming over to watch me play and try to converse. I had no clients for the night and wasn’t interested in hanging out at bars or doing any sort of "work," so I told him I was there for a blind date who never showed.

I had seen this man around the village a few times. My crackhead friend Tim had even smooched at him once as we passed by him on the street. While he wasn’t the best-looking guy in the village, he was attractive and seemed nice. He asked what my date and I were supposed to do, and I told him we were meeting at McDonald's and then heading to the Loew’s movie theater to watch "Home Alone 2." I don’t know what possessed me to share a bit of the story about seeing the first movie with my mom during a time when we weren’t getting along well, but he listened.

Though not exactly, AI got pretty close to my date.

Since my date missed out on the company of a nice guy, he offered to take me to see the movie instead. Maybe this was a sign. Maybe it was my duty to make Tim's wrong my right for the night. I had no intention of being disrespectful to this man. Perhaps he was the one that Biscuit and Shane told me to look out for as an unexpected "Sugar Daddy." But here I was, picked up by a sort of random man in a video arcade that I’d seen around the city, and he was treating me as if we were on a proper date, not just dumped.

Let me just say for the record, there was no blind date—it was something I made up because I thought it sounded good. So this gentleman not only held my hand and led me to the movie theater, but he also bought us tickets to see "Home Alone 2: Lost in New York" at the Lowes theater, along with two tubs of popcorn, a huge Sprite for me, and a Diet Coke for himself. I was on an unexpected date with a man who took pity on me and stepped in as my fake date’s understudy to my actual, not-really, fake date.

Years ago, while watching the first "Home Alone" movie, I never would have imagined there would be a second or that it would be set in the city I now call home. Not with my mom or even TK, who I felt was embarrassed to be seen with me, but with a sweet man who treated me as a proper date. Despite my initial disinterest in his company, thinking he would try to pull some funny business, we ended up having a pleasant time together. It was unexpected, and I think the hand-holding on the way to the theater was a sweet touch. I’m not sure if it was to give me the full effect of an actual date or if he was just affectionate with anyone.

When the movie began, he settled comfortably in his seat, watching the screen intently. As the film progressed, I found myself leaning my head on his shoulder. Surprisingly, he didn’t pull away or seem uncomfortable. Instead, he seemed to welcome the gesture, snuggling just a little closer. It felt unexpectedly sweet and genuine, almost as if he enjoyed the simple act of closeness as much as I did. His warmth and patience made me feel safe and cared for, turning what could have been an awkward situation into a comforting and memorable experience.

"Home Alone 2: Lost in New York" follows the misadventures of Kevin McCallister as he finds himself stranded in New York City during Christmas. The film captures the spirit of the city beautifully, with iconic landmarks and festive decorations setting the perfect backdrop for Kevin's escapades. Watching the movie while being in the very city it was set in made the experience all the more magical for me. It felt as if I was wandering the same streets alongside Kevin, sharing in his wonder and excitement. The film itself was a delightful blend of comedy and heartwarming moments, with Kevin once again outsmarting the bumbling burglars, Harry and Marv. Macaulay Culkin's performance was as charming as ever, and the addition of Tim Curry and Rob Schneider added an extra layer of humor to the film.

As I watched, I couldn't help but think back to when I saw the first "Home Alone" movie in Pensacola with my mom shortly after its release. The memory of that special time, filled with laughter and joy, added an extra layer of nostalgia to my experience in New York. After the movie, the man took me to a place that served pancakes bigger than your head, around the corner from the Townhouse Bar. We enjoyed our pancakes, which we could barely finish, laughing and talking about where we were from. He was really interested in where I was from because my accent, at the time, had become a hybrid of Southern, mid-Atlantic, and a bit of New York thrown in. The whole experience was surreal, almost like living in a movie myself. Here I was with this strange man, showing me kindness just as Kevin and the bird lady found friendship within the city by chance. They were both exactly what each other needed at the time.

"Home Alone 2: Lost in New York" is a sequel that truly stands on its own, capturing the essence of the holiday season while delivering plenty of laughs and touching scenes. The movie beautifully showcases the magic of New York City during Christmas, from the grand tree at Rockefeller Center to the bustling stores. It highlights the importance of finding others to share the joy of the holiday season, even amidst chaos.

Though I never saw the man who stepped in as the alternate to my fake date again, I often think of his kindness and hope he found someone to appreciate him the way he deserved. To this day, I look back on that night with a smile. The combination of being in New York City, watching a movie set in the same place, and the festive atmosphere made it an unforgettable experience. For a few hours, though I was really just a kid, I felt like a kid again, filled with wonder and excitement.

"Home Alone 2: Lost in New York" remains one of my favorite Christmas movies, not just for its entertainment value, but for the cherished memory it created during my time in the city. It was a brief respite from the complexities of my life at the time, and the film, intertwined with that personal memory, has a special place in my heart.

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A Movie Night to Cherish: 'Home Alone' and Motherly Love

Home Alone

Growing up, going to the movies was a rare treat for me. My parents preferred the comfort of home, where TV shows were free and movies often aired without the need for a ticket purchase. At the time "Home Alone" was released, my mom worked during the day at Hackbarth Delivery Service, and she had her evenings free. My dad, on the other hand, worked with Team, Inc. and spent his evenings at Murphy's Lounge on the Pensacola side of Escambia River. Their relationship was strained, their marriage on the brink, and their disagreements frequent.

During this tumultuous period, I was dealing with my own struggles. I found myself in the midst of a complicated friendship, wanting for it to be more. My friend, who I'd known since a bullying incident in the 6th grade, only wanted to keep things casual and secret due to fears of being "out" in our conservative area. I also suspected that he might have been embarrassed for people to know we were boyfriends, let alone friends. This added to my emotional turmoil, leaving me feeling isolated and misunderstood. My mom, in a misguided effort to help, had me attending Alateen meetings and counseling sessions, but all I wanted was to be left alone or to be comforted by my best friend.

In the midst of our constant bickering, my mom decided to treat me to a night at the movies. She went to the bank and withdrew money for our tickets and whatever snacks we wanted at the concession stand. We drove to Cordova Mall, parked near the cinema and bought tickets for "Home Alone," the new Christmas movie everyone was raving about. Despite our troubles, that night, something magical happened.

"Home Alone" was a breath of fresh air. It was entirely different from the other Christmas classic we loved, "A Miracle on 34th Street," but it brought us joy and laughter. Kevin McCallister's antics, as he defended his home from bumbling burglars, struck a chord with us. We laughed together, forgot our worries for a couple of hours, and simply enjoyed the film. After the movie, we wandered around the mall, savoring the rare moment of peace between us. For the first time in a long while, we didn't argue. The next day, we returned to our usual disagreements, but something good had come from that movie night. We had found another Christmas movie to cherish, and it gave us a memory of shared laughter during a time of unhappiness.

"Home Alone" remains a beloved holiday classic for many. Its blend of comedy, heart, and the timeless theme of family makes it an enduring favorite. The film's portrayal of a young boy cleverly outwitting would-be thieves while learning the importance of family resonates with audiences year after year. For me, it will always remind me of that special night with my mom, a night when we found common ground and shared a much-needed laugh.

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My Journey to Mastering the Thanksgiving Turkey, my very first time

Learning how to cook a turkey was something I never thought I could do as a kid. Though my mom's turkey was always dry, I liked it because I knew no different. I thought turkey was supposed to be that way. My teen years were spent shuffling between leaving home and brief stints back at home living with my dad. My dad was not exactly what I would call a cook; he mostly ate what my sister would bring him, fast food or cooked chili, using his special ingredients added to Chili-O mix—ketchup.

After I returned to stay with him for a few months in 1996, I knew Daddy wasn't going to have much of a Thanksgiving. So, I went out to Delchamps on my bicycle and bought a turkey, along with Stove Top stuffing (which I stopped using after learning how to make my mom's dressing) and a few other fixings that would fit into my backpack. I really had no clue what I was doing in the kitchen, but I remembered little things from recipe books from the '50s and '60s that I had read at the library in Milton, Florida, while looking for things to talk about on the radio show my friend Charlie and I did.

When my dad returned home from work the night before Thanksgiving, he shook his head and told me I wasted my money on all of that and might as well just order us a pizza or wait for my sister Becki to bring us a few plates from her husband's family's get-together, which I knew she would do for him as she had done before. I was determined to make this work. 

I got up early Thanksgiving morning, just as my mom did when I was a kid, and fired up the oven. I went to work using the knowledge from those ancient recipe books. I put a lot of the tips together, and though each one seemed odd and dated and was never mentioned in the cooking instructions of that Butterball turkey, they somehow made sense. Some of the cooking tips included using margarine rather than butter on the skin, as it would allow the skin to hold the juices in without burning as quickly. I also baked the turkey upside down for two-thirds of the cooking time and then flipped it over for the last third, figuring out the logistics without burning myself or tearing the turkey apart was a challenge in itself. Another tip was to forgo basting and pour two cartons of chicken or vegetable broth into the bottom of the pan, allowing it to steam the turkey. I then reused the broth to make gravy and add flavor to the dressing. By noon, I pulled out the turkey one final time and took my chance at cutting it open to serve it alongside brown-and-serve rolls, cream-style corn, Stove Top stuffing, mashed potatoes, and gravy that I had prepared. 

I was very proud of myself, and Daddy seemed to be very impressed that I proved him wrong. To this day, I can still hear his voice when he told me that for as long as he knew my mom, she couldn't manage to master cooking a turkey, but here I was, a pro on my very first try. Years later, my Thanksgiving meals have grown. Though I still only cook for two, I cook enough for myself and Terry to eat on throughout the week, including his favorite (and not mine), Green Bean Casserole. I use the leftover turkey to make broth, which I freeze to use for other dishes throughout the year. Thank you for hanging out with me today and reading this memory and I hope you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving today while I am working, the airport never closes.

A Holiday Tradition and a Dream Come True: Miracle on 34th Street and Visiting Macy's

Every family has its cherished holiday traditions and every year around Thanksgiving, my mom and I had a cherished tradition of watching "Miracle on 34th Street" with Natalie Wood. It was our signal that the holiday season had officially begun. The film, with its timeless charm and heartwarming message, always brought us closer together. I would scour through the TV guide each week, looking for every time the movie would be on. One of the best parts of having cable, albeit basic cable, back in the 1980s was the fact that certain movies that would air once a year on network television would sometimes play on a cable channel more frequently. Each time it would air, we’d cover up in the living room with a few afghans she had crocheted, popcorn, and big glasses of lemonade, and lose ourselves in the magical world where Kris Kringle proves to everyone that he is the real Santa Claus. Natalie Wood’s portrayal of the skeptical little Susan added just the right amount of innocence and wonder, making the movie even more special for us.

The tradition of watching "Miracle on 34th Street" wasn’t just about the movie itself but also about the love that both of us shared for the film. We laughed, we cried, and we believed in the spirit of Christmas just a little bit more each year. It became one of those rare constants in life that I could always count on, no matter what else was happening. The scenes set in Macy's particularly captivated us, and we often talked about visiting the iconic store as well as Gimbels someday. We also tried watching the 1973 version of the movie, but it just didn’t have the same magic, and we didn't care for it at all.

That dream came true when I was 16, in the summer of 1992. After finally making my way to New York City, I marveled at the facade of the Majestic Theatre, the famous home of "The Phantom of the Opera." Then, I walked ten blocks to visit the real Macy's on 34th Street. Though my mom wasn't with me, the experience was magical. Macy's on 34th Street was much larger than I could have ever imagined. In the area where I grew up, the largest stores were the two-story anchor mall stores like Sears, DH Holmes, Gayfers, Montgomery Ward, McRae's, and JCPenney. Macy's vibe was incomparable to those stores, though DH Holmes, before being bought by Dillard's, seemed like a mini version of this great store. Even the Macy's locations in Atlanta paled in comparison. During my time in New York, I found myself in Macy's more often than any other store because it was so massive that you could spend an entire day there and still not see everything.

I would intentionally take the wooden escalators because they somehow made me feel more connected to the 1947 film than the modern escalators with metal stairs. Though Macy's prices were higher than what I was used to paying for clothes, I did a lot of shopping in their Young Men's section. Even now, almost 50, I find myself gravitating toward the same section in any store. Plus, it was well air-conditioned, which was a welcome relief during the hot summer days.

After I briefly left New York following my "accident" with Richard Rogers, being back in Florida felt so foreign to me, even though everything was exactly as I remembered. One thing I always loved as a kid was walking around the mall during Christmas. The two malls in Mobile, Bel Aire and Springdale, as well as University and Cordova in Pensacola, went all out in different ways to make their decorations more festive than the next. When I returned to New York in November of the same year, I wasn't prepared for the feeling I got while walking through the city, which had transformed into a Christmas wonderland. The moment I turned the corner and saw Macy's all decorated for Christmas, stepping into those grand doors with the store readied for the upcoming holiday season felt like stepping into the movie. The festive decorations, the hustle and bustle of shoppers, and the sheer size of the store were overwhelming in the best possible way. Regretfully, part of the wish my mom and I had could not be fulfilled completely, visiting Gimbels. Gimbels had gone out of business half a decade before I made it to New York. However, not all was lost, as the A&S Plaza, now called Manhattan Mall, was open for business on the original site where Gimbels once stood. While not the same, it was still very magical to me.

I couldn't pass up the chance to see the real-life Macy's Santa Claus either. I waited in line among children of different national backgrounds, which I absolutely loved, all with the same goal as me: to have a magical moment with the magical man, even if he was just an employee of the store. I declined a photo because I thought I would always remember the moment in my mind, but 32 years later, I wish I had gotten one to share the magic with you, my readers, my family, and everyone else I know. I couldn’t help but think back to all those years of watching the film and how it had sparked this moment of excitement and fulfillment.

AI version of sort of me with "Macy's"

Standing there in Macy's, I felt a deep sense of gratitude for the shared moments with my mom. The store was as magical as I had imagined, but the true magic lay in the memories we created together, both on screen and in real life. I wish I had shared this story with my mom before her passing; I feel she would have loved hearing about my visit to Macy's and how she contributed to the magic I feel each year during the holiday season and beyond. I also would love to hear her try to sing the tune the little Dutch girl sang with Santa Claus in the movie once more. Though my mom didn't know the words, she did her best to sing along to "Sinterklaas Kapoentje" and it always cracked me up. Visiting Macy's was the perfect culmination of our holiday tradition and remains one of my most treasured memories. "Miracle on 34th Street" continues to hold a special place in my heart, not just as a classic film, but as a symbol of the enduring bond between my mom and me.