By Dan Schmitt

No season is quite like Christmas for welling up memories. And no Christmas season is more indelibly locked into my memory than the one that occurred back in 1958.
I grew up the third of seven kids in the small central Wisconsin town of Schofield. My parents were products of the Great Depression and World War II and disciplined differently. Six of the seven Schmitt kids were boys, and we were all boys, if you know what I mean!

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