It’s a nostalgic time of year. Tonight, I’m remembering some of my favorite memories and sharing them. These stories won’t be long because the memories are short and specific, so I’ve bunched a few of them together for your reading displeasure.
My first memory of seeing a man wearing a fake white beard attached to a spandex cord stretched from one corner to the other around his noggin, a bright red suit with pillows tucked around the middle, and a pleather belt was in the early 90s at a gymnasium for a school Christmas program.
I didn’t understand everything that was happening. But I saw the kids who went to the school getting presents, which was something I had learned to enjoy. But I didn’t get any presents that night. The primary reason was I didn’t attend that school, and the other reason was that I didn’t take well to strangers in red costumes with removable beards.
Then, I remember being carried to the car in the blistering cold wind and dad putting me in my car seat. It was dark, and since I don’t remember anything else, I probably fell asleep on the way home.
I remember having Christmas at Grandpa and Grandma Driscoll’s house. It was the first time I remember the whole family being there for Christmas. My uncle was in the Army, and his family didn’t get to be at many family Christmases. I remember getting a red fire truck and a white ambulance. Each vehicle had three buttons. I don’t recall the sounds those buttons created because the batteries were never replaced after the first ones lost their juice. I hadn’t played with those toys since the 90s, but we kept them around. They were still at my parent’s house a few years ago. I doubt they are there now.
I remember having Christmas at Grandpa and Grandma Wheeler’s. In 1995, I received my first album of Adventures in Odyssey cassette tapes. I begged Dad to play one of the tapes in the car as we left the party, but he made me wait until we got home. That was the longest car ride home I’ve ever experienced. And it was only four or five miles.
Then, one year, they decided instead of drawing names, we would bring presents and pile them on a long table in the living room. The present I picked up from the table that evening was a picture of an infinitely long table set with fine china with clouds above it. And out of the clouds appeared two nail-scarred hands. It was the most beautiful picture I had ever seen. Several adults tried to get me to pick something else, maybe a toy that I could play with, but I kept that picture. I stared at it for a long time, taking in its beauty. It hung on a wall in my room for years.
I remember going to Great Grandma Dobb’s house for Christmas. I don’t remember having a white elephant gift exchange every year, but the one time I remember it, it was a doozy. Dad had bought a religious Tabernacle Choir CD from the brand-new concrete block superstore in town. They hadn’t sold choir music at the previous store’s location. This massive choir was from a particular Western state with a large population of specifically religious people. He didn’t realize what their choir music sounded like. We got home with the CD, put it in the CD player, and the sound that emanated from the speakers caused my Dad to jump across the room to turn it off as he scowled at the CD cover in disgust. He said he couldn’t believe he spent good money on the piece of junk.
He said since he had opened it, he probably couldn’t take it back, so he would wrap it and take it to the White Elephant gift exchange down at Grandma Dobb’s. It didn’t go over very well. I won’t say who got it, but I do remember. Let’s just say their musical tastes didn’t reach far beyond the likes of Lynyrd Skynyrd, which is a far cry from the orchestral and operatic stylings of the overtly religious choir.
Of course, four-year-old me piped up that that was the gift my dad brought to the party. And that he had hated it.
Ah, good times.
to the little kids making memories,
– Caleb
caneymountainblog.com 