I remember when I was a little girl, my brother and sister and I would wake up in the middle of the night and sneak in to see what Santa had left for us. One year, (and I'm not sure this was all the same year, Pam, help me out here) there was a transistor radio for Pam, and a small reel to reel tape recorder for our brother (who chooses not to be named here) and a little table and 2 chairs for me. We sat up on our bed conducting "Man on the Street" interviews with each other, before putting everything back and trying really hard to go back to sleep.
One year my sister teased me about her gift to me...it was big and flowered. I couldn't imagine what it could be. It turned out to be a giant flowered stuffed pig. I loved him and I named him Ivanhoe. This is not a picture of my Ivanhoe, he was larger and had better flowers, but it was as close as I could find.
Middle 70's. I was grown and working at a drug store. I think I had about $12 to spend on Christmas gifts for my family. I bought tiny little sample bottles of cologne for the men and something similar for the women. I was embarrassed but nobody made me feel bad about it.
Fast forward to early 80's. I had been to visit my dad and fell in love with my step-mothers new food processor. They had just come out. All the rage, ya know. I wanted one so bad. Every hint possible was dropped to husband. When Christmas morning came, there was the box...just the right size...just the right weight...OH BOY, I just knew it was my food processor. I ripped into the wrapping and there it was...A Betty Gee Deep Fryer....*+*+*siiiiigh*+*+*
1983. Joe was 3. The oil field was booming. Times were good. I had made Joe a pair of blue checked flannel pj's and a blue fleece robe, and he looked adorable. I've never been very good at picking gifts, but I did good that year, in quantity anyway. This looks very much like the pattern I used.
1985. Gary was 6 months old. We had a tree with an angel on top, dressed in a white dress. He was lying under the tree, fascinated by the twinkling lights. He reached his chubby little hand up and pulled the tree down on top of himself, busting his lip and bleeding on the angel's skirt. I never had the heart to replace her. She sat on top of our tree, stained skirt and all, until the last Christmass we spent together in 2001.
1995. This one is hard to write. Probably the worst Christmas we ever had, except for '94 when Joe ran away from home on Christmas Day, went with a buddy to Killeen and we didn't see him for a week.
Ok...back to 95. Gary was 10 years old. Joe was 15 and dating a girl who was old enough to drive. We had a beautiful dog named Cujo, whom we'd raised from a baby. He was 5 years old. Over the past few months, Cujo had not been acting right. He was breaking through the living room window and running away. He bit the mail lady. He held a neighbor lady hostage in her house. It was to the point that we were having to tether him either to a tree, or to the leg of our bed when we went out.
Christmas night. It was about 10pm. I had just gone to bed because I had to work the next day. The football game was still on TV. Husband had come into the room to sit with me for a few minutes before I went to sleep. Joe was out on a date. Gary was alone in the living room with Cujo. He was sitting on a skateboard, rolling back and forth a little bit. Cujo was several feet away, sleeping stretched out in front of the door. All was quiet and peaceful. Then the quiet was broken by a blood curdling scream from the living room...and then another....Jim (husband) and I jumped up and ran in, and found Gary, our baby, standing with his arm torn open, bleeding, terrified. Cujo had awakened suddenly and attacked the boy, grabbing his arm and tearing a deep gash in it. After he turned him loose, he came at him and bit him again. The sound of my baby in mortal terror like that is something I don't wish any mother to ever hear.
We wrapped him up and jumped in the car and sped to the hospital. Every time the car bounced, Gary would cry. My heart was breaking. All I could do was hold him in my arms and pray we'd get there soon. We reached Joe and warned him not to untie the dog and let him in the house, as he normally would.
There were all kinds of questions to answer at the hospital. Any time there is a dog bite, the police are called. We immediately agreed to have the dog put down. No dog was worth the risk he had become to our family. It took a mattress stitch down deep in the muscle and 12 more stitches on top to repair the physical damage. For a long time, and maybe to this day, I don't know, Gary was afraid of large dogs. And he said he could tell when the weather was going to change. I'm thankful it wasn't his handsome face, and it wasn't his throat.
Ok...let's end this on a good one. 2003, my first Christmas with Dave. We had such fun. We drove around looking at Christmas lights. We bought toys for the Toys for Tots. We shipped presents home. We were spending the first of many Christmases together. The only hard part about that year was when the radio would play I'll Be Home for Christmas...that made me cry.
This year is a good one. Money is tight, like it is for everyone. But we have each other and we have friends, and we have family and we're happy with that.
Merry Christmas, Everybody. And a Happy New Year.
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