Christmas Eve was always special for me as a kid. Family would show up and we would have a traditional Polish “Poor Man’s Meal.” Basically it was a very dry fish (sole I believe) served with pierogis and lots of sausage and kraut. Who was I kidding. I was and only child and I just wanted everyone to eat their shitty food so we could go upstairs and open up the damn presents. Things changed forever on that cold and blustery Christmas Eve in 1985.

This was my first Christmas Eve away from home and my family. I got into radio in the summer of 1985 and that changed the way I would celebrate the holidays. More often than not I was away from family. Christmas Eve 1985 found me in Grand Rapids, Michigan. I was two hundred and eighty-five miles away from my childhood home in Strongsville, Ohio. There was a terrible snowstorm that day and I was very sick. I had a fever and was alone for the first time on Christmas Eve. I called my mother to wish her well on the dinner and celebration she was about to have.

I got my first dog when I was in second grade. She was a collie. I named her “Lady.” Lady was my companion from the second grade on. Being an only child Lady was the closest thing to a sibling I would ever have. I was on the phone with mother that Christmas Eve when I heard the doorbell ring in the background. Mom explained she had to go as company was beginning to arrive. Something was not right. Something was missing. My dog would ALWAYS bark when someone rang the door bell. I stopped my mother before she could hang up and I asked in desperation, “What the hell is going on? Why is Lady not barking???” The pause seemed endless. Mother then took a deep breath, hesitated and said “Ya know when ya left in August and said I would know when it was time……..” There was a momentary lack of reason that filled my head. Suddenly it was clear to me…..Mother had killed my dog.

To this very day Mother will deny this ever happened. That’s what parents do as they get older. They develop selective memory and like to rewrite history. That was a long time ago yet it seems like it was yesterday. When your door bell rings this Christmas Eve and I hear your dog barking I can be rest assured you have never met my Mother.

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I have always said that life starts to get shitty right after ya find out the truth about Santa Claus. From that point on your trust has been shattered. There is no way you will be prepared for the upcoming trials and tribulations of the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny. Just to make sure you will be on the defensive for the rest of your life you will soon discover birds and bees and a freaking stork have nothing to do with the reason you have become a global footprint on this planet. Let’s get back to that fatal morning of December 1973 when I was in the third grade and Mother summoned me to the kitchen ten minutes before the school bus was to arrive.

Mom seemed to be serious. I went to the kitchen and she told me to sit down. Immediately I began to wonder what I had done wrong. There was no way I was ever going to be properly prepared for what she said next. “I wanted to tell you something before you heard it from Brian Kuhn or someone on the bus,” she said. “You know how ever year at Christmas Santa brings ya gifts? Well that’s actually Mom and Dad. Any questions??” Really??? Any questions??? I have a few. The first one would be “Who are you and what the hell did you just say??” My world was destroyed. Suddenly I questioned everything. All of a sudden the making a wish and blowing out the candles on your birthday cake thing seemed like a bunch of shit to me as well. I was speechless. I was stunned. I could not move and all Mom would say is “Hurry up…..don’t miss the bus.”

I was just eight years old and I felt like a sparring partner of Mike Tyson. I remember being in a daze as I found my way to the bus stop that cold December morning. The bus stopped, I heard the air brakes, the door opened and I climbed aboard. I looked to find my usual seat in the middle of the bus and I locked eyes with Brian Kuhn. For a moment we were one. We said so much without saying anything at all. Finally I exhaled and sat down. After what seemed like an eternity Brian Kuhn finally said “I see your Mother beat me to it.” I paused….smiled…turned towards him and said, “Yes. Yes she did.” It’s never been the same since that cold November morning in 1973. 😪😪😪

Make sure to listen to Danny’s weekly podcast DANNYLAND! Click HERE to listen and share with others.

Redskins Name FootballI’m not politically correct.  I’m 100% Polish and I LOVE a good Pollock joke.  I’m the last guy you would refer to as a racist and that’s probably why I don’t see what the big deal is about the Washington Redskin’s logo.

Some have said to me “How would you feel if a team were to be called “The Pollocks?”  I’d love it.   I can see people at a Pollock game yelling “What type of dumb play was that?”  I’d laugh and say “What do you expect from a team called The Pollocks?”

Again, my level of sensitivity to this subject is VERY low but I will tell ya what pisses me off:  Thanksgiving and Columbus Day.  Columbus was a very bad man.  In 1500, the Crown had him removed as governor, arrested, and transported in chains to Spain yet we have a day honoring him?

Thanksgiving?  The Pilgrims landed here, befriended the Native Americans and then took their land.  For this we have a four-day weekend and a giant parade.  Santa Claus is at the end of the parade so he must be after your casinos.

I completely understand those that take issue with Thanksgiving and Columbus Day but making such an issue of something on the side of a football helmet or a baseball cap?  I just don’t see it but would love to hear your comments.  Have a great weekend.