Once I realized that there weren’t many hiding spots for my Christmas presents I began to snoop. One day when I was home sick from school and my Mom was at work I looked in their closet and saw my present on the top shelf. I grabbed a chair so I could see and looked but didn’t touch anything. I saw most of what I was getting that year and I have to admit it was a major letdown by looking ahead of time. It took away the whole surprise of Christmas morning,
You would have thought that I would’ve learned my lesson but the following year I did the same thing. This time they hid it in the back of the car. They had a hatchback with a vinyl pullover cover that covered the trunk area. Once I figured out that was where my presents were I peaked again. Seeing everything I was going to get. That was 82, the year I got Michael Jackson’s Thriller for Christmas. I remember that Christmas as being the last time I looked for my presents ahead of time. Either that or my Mom just got better at hiding them.
One year I got a Halloween style make-up set from my Grandmother – for Christmas… Payback from Grandma, I’m sure my Mom was happy to see that. I stayed on the floor in front of the tree and painted my face light 4 or 5 different times. I think I used the whole thing that day. One thing that I always secretly wanted for Christmas though – an EZ bake oven. I mean, who doesn’t want to make delicious cake and brownies all for yourself in their own room. I don’t care if you were a girl or a boy – you know you wanted that shit and if you make fun of me for it then you my friend are in serious denial.
A few years earlier I went to Olympia Washington with my Dad for Christmas. We spent it at my grandparent’s house. My Aunt Kay, her husband Gene and their son Graham also went. I would’ve been around 5 or 6 I think which would have made Graham 2 or 3. It was my first time meeting Graham and he was a little shit. He would pull my hair, hit me and all around just annoy the living hell out of me but he was way too little to do anything back to so I didn’t. That year I also remember cutting my hand on the stone ledge of their fireplace. I just ran my hand across it and ripped a small piece of skin off my hand. It wasn’t bad just a small flesh wound. I cried like crazy and for some strange reason I remember my Dad trying to calm me down and saying “look at that – it looks like meat in there” referring to where the skin ripped off. Yeah that didn’t work too well.
One year I got a sled – you know the old school wooden ones with the metal blades on the bottom and the handle in the front to “help” you steer. We had a park that was about a couple of miles up the road on Burnside Ave. called Wickham park. There was a giant hill that all the kids would go sledding on when it snowed plenty. The hill was so friggin big that after you went down it took like an hour to get back up to the top of the hill! Not really, more like 10 minutes but in the cold wet snow it isn’t pleasant walking your ass back up to the top of that hill in your full body snowsuit and winter boots. We would go down maybe 2 or 3 times and that was kind of it. We would always get into snowball fights and then I’d get hit in the face or in the back of the neck, which is worse. The snow hits you right in between the bottom of your winter hat and the top of your winter jacket right in that small 1 inch area that’s exposed – it’s wet and cold and worse – it drips down your back under your clothes. I’m about to go get some hot cocoa just thing about it. I’d rather build a snowman in the courtyard back at the apartments.
Oh and a note to my family – please do not get me an EZ bake oven – that ship has sailed.