The day after Christmas a number of years ago, I was driving down a country road in Texas. And it was a bitter cold, cold morning. And walking ahead of me on the gravel road was a little bare-footed boy with non-descript ragged overalls and a makeshift sleeved sweater tied around his little ears. I stopped and picked him up. Looked like he was about 12 years old and his little feet were blue with the cold. He was carrying an orange.
Read the rest at NPR. http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=5028755 (via Metafilter)
My parents were a lot like pjmoore's. Getting an orange on Christmas was a real treat. As a child I never really understood why there was always an orange in my stocking on Christmas. It's amazing how much the world has changed.
Merry Christmas to y'all!