I have always associated this story with the above Norman Rockwell picture because our family owned the Norman Rockwell Christmas book. As an ardent fan of the man, I'd rather resort to fisticuffs than try to intellectually explain his greatness (luckily someone smart at Vanity Fair did that for me.)
Fifty-Two Stories, a site sponsored by Harper Perennial that I've been meaning to mention, say for fifty-two weeks, has posted the master of the twist's Christmas-time twist for this coming Christmas week. The version they've chosen is a newly illustrated format by Joel Priddy, whose art is as cheerful and gentle as the story.
To go with it--though not sure how much I like this version, maybe I hafta hear it a few more times--
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I grew up on The Art of Norman Rockwell, a ridiculously huge book found in the basement of my great-aunt. I mean, seriously, that book must've been like three feet tall - or so it seemed through a child's eyes. And it weighed a ton. I dare say that book informed my sensibilities in a big way. Somewhere, below the surface muck and mire of my work, there's a portrait of an idealized American family sitting down to Thanksgiving dinner.
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