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Sometimes, the most meaningful presents aren’t the ones that were on the list.
I’ve led a tremendously blessed life. I suspect that most of us have. Growing up, my brother Greg and I would wait with anticipation for Christmas morning to see how much of our list Santa Claus was able to fulfill. At our house, the tree was upstairs in the living room and the stockings were downstairs by the fireplace in the family room. The family room with the orange shag carpet. It was the 70s after all. The orange shag carpet that we would rake whenever we had company. The orange shag carpet that harbored needles for years after the one year we put the Christmas tree down there.
We always got a blue spruce. Well, maybe almost always, but if there was an exception I don’t remember it. They were nicely shaped and the branches were strong enough that you could hang bricks on them. Of course, you also had to wear ski gloves when stringing lights otherwise your hands would be scratched to pieces.
Christmas 1980. The movie Flash Gordon had premiered earlier that month. I don’t remember if my family went opening weekend, but we definitely saw it at the theater. Greg liked it a lot—especially the music. The soundtrack album was released at about the same time. I figured that would make a good Christmas present, so I picked up a copy for him at the National Record Mart in Northway Mall.
I can so relate to the Calvin and Hobbes strip from December 25, 1987. I’m sure my parents can, too. Calvin and Hobbs sneak down the stairs and discover, very excitedly and loudly, that Santa came!! Dad, still sleeping asks, “It’s not morning already?” to which Mom looking at the clock replies, “Well, technically. Yes…”
On Christmas morning we weren’t allowed out of our bedrooms until 6:00. Most years Greg and I were up long before then, leaning as far out of our bedrooms as possible without setting foot outside the door to try to see down the hall at what was under the Christmas tree. When we were given the OK, we were like horses bursting out of the starting gate, running full speed for eight steps so we could take in the scene. Look, but don’t touch. Presents were opened one at a time.
At some point Greg got to mine and opened it. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him that excited.
We finished opening the presents under the tree and it was then time to go downstairs to unpack the stockings. Before that, though, Greg told me to turn my back and wait a minute. I heard him run down the hall, presumably to his bedroom, then back up the hall and down the stairs. “OK,” I heard him call. My parents and I padded down the stairs. I walked into the family room and turned the corner toward the fireplace. Greg was sitting on the sofa, beaming and bouncing like he was going to burst.
On the hearth under my stocking was a pile of giant-size Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup packages. They were from an ongoing Little League or Cub Scouts fundraiser. I love Reese’s cups, and I have to confess that sometimes it was hard seeing the open box in his bedroom and not “sampling” some.
We were typical brothers, getting on each other’s nerves and tussling, but in that moment I’m not sure that two brothers were any closer. My mom later told me how excited he was and that the candy was all he could think of to express his excitement and appreciation. I knew.
The way I ate candy when I was growing up, I’d be surprised if they lasted more than a couple of days, but the memory is still vivid forty-five years later.
You only get a couple of those moments in your life and I am grateful for that one, and for one of the most meaningful Christmas presents I ever received.
Wishing you a moment of joy this Christmas season.
