The Biloxi Point – A Christmas Memory

Nov 2013
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“Son, we’re going to the Point after church, so keep your suit coat on,” my Dad said.

“The Point? Why there?” I asked. “Your mother has some Christmas goodies to deliver.” Dad rolled his eyes and smiled. “You know your mother. Mr. And Mrs. Clause all rolled into one.”

Then, I rolled my eyes in dismay. I was fourteen. All I could think about was going home, eating pot roast, and putting the finishing touches on our new aluminum Christmas tree with its rotating color wheel. The tree was a silvery creation covered in shiny, multicolored ornaments from the local TG&Y store. I was happy my family was up with the times. It was, after all, 1966.

As we rode along Highway 90 in the family Rambler, I peered out the window at the bleak, windswept sand flats. It was a typical winter day: rainy, coupled with bone-chilling cold. My thoughts then turned to our destination. “The Point? Wasn’t a girl at Gulfport East High School dating a boy from there? And wasn’t there a big stink about him being from the wrong side of town?” Just then, Dad swerved to avoid a huge pothole. The Rambler skidded on the slick pavement. Dad quickly regained control, and we plowed onward through the rain. Onward toward the Point.

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