In this season of many holidays, I am reminded of how stories connect generations — favorites told and retold.

A grandfather drove his grandson, Trevor, to try out for the Christmas pageant at church. Trevor emerged all excited. “I got a great part, Grampa!” he said.
“Oh,” said Grampa. “What part did you get?”
“I’m going to be a dog!”
“A dog?”
“Yup. A shepherd.”

In Goffstown, a teller said he’d heard this from his grandfather when he was young enough to believe everything Grampa said.
Fishing in a brook one day, Grampa ran out of worms. Luckily, he spotted a snake on the bank. The snake had a small frog in its mouth.
Grampa took out his flask—he always carried one for medicinal purposes. He sprinkled a few drops of spirits on the snake’s mouth, and, the snake released the frog, which Grampa put on his hook for more fishing.
A little while later, he felt a poke on his ankle. It was the snake. Back with another frog.

Debbie in Franklin shared this family classic. Her father, Roland, had the unusual habit of eating ice cream with a fork. One evening, enjoying a bowl, he dropped the fork and it stuck into his foot, the tines drawing blood.
His wife said, “Roland, what have you learned from this?”
He said, “Wear shoes when I’m eating ice cream.”

And finally, a true story I call The Littlest Yankee. Of course, we Yankees are famous for our reserve. Some call it coolness, but I believe it’s just warmth subdued. Case in point:

The Yankee and his grandson were riding through town in the pick-up when the Yankee saw an acquaintance on the side of the road. So he waved. The acquaintance didn’t wave back.
“That wasn’t very nice,” the Yankee said. “He didn’t even wave back.”
Little Colin, just five years old, said, “He nodded.”

Happy holidays. And don’t forget to share family stories. They are the best gifts of all.