Lovely, glorious, beautiful Christmas, upon which the entire kid year revolved.
In which Good Ol’ Schmoe writes about going to the A Christmas Story house and never really finishes the entry for some reason.
I knew it existed. I knew that the house used in the filming of 1983’s Holiday classic A Christmas Story had been opened as a sort of museum or shrine. And I knew it was a reasonable day-trip away from my place. But I never really seriously considered visiting it.
I don’t know why I never seriously considered it. I have seen the movie countless times. Countless because you cannot count the number.
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