2008 Woodie Awards
A Holiday Tale
From Emily Joan Smith, Features Editor & recovering Grinch
By: Emily Smith, Features Editor
Issue date: 12/14/07 Section: Features
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Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Emily. Emily loved Christmas.
She loved to decorate the tree. She loved to eat her grandmother's sugar cookies. She normally hated her piano lessons, but not at Christmastime! Emily practiced extra hard to play "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" perfectly.
Most of all, Emily loved presents.
Every year, her mommy told her to be thankful. "Remember, dear, that some little girls and boys don't have mommies and daddies to give them presents for Christmas."
But Emily had seen the movies, so she knew better. Santa Claus paid special attention to orphans, and they always lived happily ever after.
Besides, Emily was pretty distracted getting what she wanted.
She never got a pony, and she didn't have as many outfits for her American Girl dolls as she would have liked, but Christmas was still pretty sweet. She got a dollhouse one year, and the Beauty Barbie and the Beast Ken another year. During her tomboy phase, Santa brought her rollerblades and a basketball hoop.
As Emily grew bigger and bigger, Christmas grew less and less fun until, finally, one terrible, horrible, no good, very bad year, her parents bought a fake Christmas tree.
"I've had it!" she shouted. "I can't stand you anymore!"
Emily was almost grown up, so as soon as she could, she flew from home like a young bird flies from its nest.
She went to college, where she read stories by a nice man named Karl Marx and made friends with interesting people called anarchists. They taught her to be angry about lots of things.
When Emily went home for Christmas, she had to go to the shopping mall with her mommy. The mall was decorated with lots of plastic holly and red ribbons. It was crowded with people who thought they were buying lots of nice things for their loved ones.
But Emily had read Mr. Marx, so she knew better. While her mommy examined wool scarves, Emily ran through the mall, tearing down the decorations. "F this capitalist B.S.!" she shouted at the top of her lungs.
She loved to decorate the tree. She loved to eat her grandmother's sugar cookies. She normally hated her piano lessons, but not at Christmastime! Emily practiced extra hard to play "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" perfectly.
Most of all, Emily loved presents.
Every year, her mommy told her to be thankful. "Remember, dear, that some little girls and boys don't have mommies and daddies to give them presents for Christmas."
But Emily had seen the movies, so she knew better. Santa Claus paid special attention to orphans, and they always lived happily ever after.
Besides, Emily was pretty distracted getting what she wanted.
She never got a pony, and she didn't have as many outfits for her American Girl dolls as she would have liked, but Christmas was still pretty sweet. She got a dollhouse one year, and the Beauty Barbie and the Beast Ken another year. During her tomboy phase, Santa brought her rollerblades and a basketball hoop.
As Emily grew bigger and bigger, Christmas grew less and less fun until, finally, one terrible, horrible, no good, very bad year, her parents bought a fake Christmas tree.
"I've had it!" she shouted. "I can't stand you anymore!"
Emily was almost grown up, so as soon as she could, she flew from home like a young bird flies from its nest.
She went to college, where she read stories by a nice man named Karl Marx and made friends with interesting people called anarchists. They taught her to be angry about lots of things.
When Emily went home for Christmas, she had to go to the shopping mall with her mommy. The mall was decorated with lots of plastic holly and red ribbons. It was crowded with people who thought they were buying lots of nice things for their loved ones.
But Emily had read Mr. Marx, so she knew better. While her mommy examined wool scarves, Emily ran through the mall, tearing down the decorations. "F this capitalist B.S.!" she shouted at the top of her lungs.
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