Dahleen Glanton: This Christmas, I'm remembering my mother, her mink coat and the gift that keeps on giving
One Christmas morning many years ago, my mother walked out of the kitchen as she had done since I was a little girl and took her place on the living room sofa, next to a sparsely decorated tree with a small stack of gifts underneath.
On this important day, she always rose earlier than everyone else to start breakfast. As children, my brother and I would awaken to the smell of hot biscuits, scrambled eggs with cheese and country ham cooking on the stove.
In some ways, the ritual seemed the same as it had always been. Only I was an adult, and the tradition was no
