For me it came during the war, the Second World War, and my father was fighting in Europe. We lived in a large, poor apartment in Minneapolis for a time then, and my mother worked in a laundry during the day and could not always be with me. Different people on our floor took care of me at different times, or were supposed to, but often I just had the run of the floor. I was probably a nuisance and yet most people were more than nice to me. I would sometimes spend whole days in different apartments, eating cookies and listening to the radio or playing war with a small wooden gun that I had and everybody seemed to tolerate me. But there was one old man named Henderson, who lived with his wife at the end of our floor, who did not like children. He did not like me in particular, but I thought he must not like any children and a week before Christmas in 1943 I was playing in the hall, running back and forth, when I passed Henderson’s apartment and saw something that stopped me cold. Mr. Henderson was standing by the kitchen table with his wife.
What do You think about A Christmas Sonata (2011)?
