On Christmas Day of 1977, I was sitting on the floor of our home at #6 Westwood Forest, playing with my two kids, Holly and Gregg. We had just finished opening all the presents, the living room floor was strewn with shreds of colorful wrapping paper, ribbons, to/from cards, empty boxes. The phone rang. Mary Lee answered it, then came in and told me, "It's your mom." That was how I learned that Charlie had died. Mom knew of my love of Chaplin, frequently bought me Chaplin things: a painting, a book, a magazine.
Yes, Charlie Chaplin had died in Vevey, Switzerland, at his home at Manoir de Ban. You probably know the story as well as I do. This is simply a fond remembrance of his life, films and legacy on this day.
