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I came to this country in the winter of 1964, at the age of eight. And on that very first American winter, my adopted American grandfather took me and my younger brother to The Emporium, on Market Street, in San Francisco. We saw our very fist American Christmas display, met Santa Claus for the first time and sat on his lap. And then we saw our very first American Christmas Carnival, of all places, on the rooftop of The Emporium. We rode a Ferris wheel, tasted yummy corn dog on-a-stick, and fell in-love with cotton candy—a cloud of pink, sugary delight.
Over the years we often shopped... (more)
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