When I was a kid, somewhere between the ages of six and eleven, I used to ask for candy for Christmas. Only candy. Not dolls or toys or games, just candy. It’s not that I didn’t like those other things, it’s just that candy was my most favorite thing. (Those who know me well may be snickering at the word “was” in that last sentence.) It never really worked, I pretty much got the same amount of candy in my stocking as Santa gave my five siblings, but there were some years when one of my older brothers would come through with a Lifesaver storybook or a giant Hershey’s kiss. Those were really good years.