Your Fondest Christmas Memories

By Michael Murray | Posted Under Think Pieces | Comments (42)

Earlier this week my wife Rachelle and I were invited over to a friend’s home for dinner. Before the meal, as a kind of a toast, each guest was asked to tell a Christmas remembrance from their lives. These are the stories that followed:

Chris Beaton:

I think I was four years old and I wanted to be a superhero. I wanted to fly and shoot lasers out of my eyes. When I got up Christmas morning I found that Santa had given me a Superman costume, and I honestly thought that it was going to transform me into the super being I knew I was. It wasn’t a feeling of receiving, but of becoming. However, my speech was a little dodgy and I couldn’t properly say Superman, and was running around yelling “I’m Sewer Man!” instead. To this day, my dad still calls me Sewer Man.

Leigh Burns:

My brother was younger than me by five years and he used to get crazy excited for Christmas. Practically hysterical. One year when he was about 9 he got up a 4:30 in the morning, I think, and unable to wait opened up all of his presents, and then opened up all of everybody else’s presents, too. And when the rest of us got up around 9:00 and came downstairs he was sitting there cross-legged by the tree, acting like he’d done us a favour and saved us the pain of unwrapping our gifts.

A.G. Pasquella:

I remember going to the Farmer’s Market with my dad to buy a Christmas Tree. The trees were fifteen dollars. My Dad told the farmer he’d give him ten dollars. “Come on, man—” said the farmer, “—give me eleven.” “Can’t do it,” my Dad replied. We got the tree for ten. At the time I was proud of my Dad for bargaining (something my Mom never did) and getting a good deal. Later in life that memory gnawed at me. It wouldn’t have hurt my Dad to give that farmer an extra dollar. Who needed that money more, my Dad or the farmer? Where was my father’s Christmas Spirit?

Rachelle Maynard:

I was 10 years old. The Christmas tree was merely a tiny prop behind towers of presents. My mother shopped throughout the year, collecting toys and sweaters she thought we might like, spoiling us Christmas. I suppose it was gluttonous, but I was 10 and it was a dream. I opened present after present, while my three sisters simultaneously ripped away at theirs. It was a traffic jam of bows and ribbons. And there it was. THAT box. It was 2 feet tall and about 1 foot wide. As I shredded the wrapping I started to scream, “THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!!” Santa had brought me my very own Cabbage Patch Kid. Her name was Carol. She had blond hair in two braids, wore an orange windbreaker, blue jeans and a pair of sneakers. You know that YouTube video of the young girl sitting in her classroom when her father surprises her with a visit, having just returned home from deployment in Iraq? It was like that.

Michael Murray:

It was the first year I returned to my parent’s house for Christmas after being away at university. I was really excited to see all my old friends from high school who were also coming back from their college experiences, and after a few months of big ideas and life on my own in Montreal, I felt pretty grown-up, maybe even superior to the smaller world I’d inhabited in Ottawa. I wanted to show-off my worldliness, but when I opened the front door to my parents, I was immediately struck by the scent of a prime rib of beef roasting in the oven and it was so unexpectedly familiar, so generous and safe, that I knew right then where home was, and always would be.

Eric Seligman:

I’m Jewish so Christmas is a non-event, but one year I decided it would be fun to celebrate the birthday of somebody other than Jesus on the 25th. Actress Sissy Spacek was born on that day, so I started throwing a “Sissmas” party where I invite over a bunch of people and we have dinner, get drunk and watch a Spacek movie. It’s been going strong for seven years now.

Melissa Bianchi:

My grandmother was always the centre of Christmas. Every year all of my cousins would come and we’d all stay at her house. It was a tradition to go to the zoo and I’d look forward to it all year long, even more than the presents. I remember one year being at the zoo and eating soft ice cream, using one of those cheap, little wooden spoons and just feeling so happy, having the warmest sense of family. After my grandmother died it was never the same.

Elizabeth Tevlin:

In Grade 1, I got to be “the” Mary in the Christmas recital. The acting skills needed were: owning a blue nightie and smiling beatifically while the other kids sang “Away in a Manger. I practiced the smile for a few days, gazing mildly into middle distance. After the recital, I overheard a grownup congratulating my parents on what a convincing Mary I was, so I beamed extra serenely at my child, Jesus, a naked doll lying on a desk across the classroom.

Molly Burke:

One of my favourite Christmas moments, kind of like Michael’s, was coming home after being away at university. When I returned, instead of being greeted by the smell of food cooking, our family dog Dakota jumped all over me. He couldn’t have been happier to see me. He was barking, squeaking and spinning and couldn’t stop licking my face, and I just burst into tears, the entire family hugging in the doorway.

Beth Morrison:

My parents didn’t get along and one year at Christmas dinner they began to bicker over something stupid, whether we were all wearing our paper hats or something. My mother, who was normally a rather proper WASP, just lost it and for the first time in her life used the word “fuck,” calling my dad, “A real fuck, that’s what you are, a fuck!” Her eyes were bulging and she was completely empowered, throwing the word around out of context for the next couple of minutes. The rest of us were silent, trying to repress laughter. When my mother returned from the kitchen after this scene had petered out, we all pretended that nothing had happened, just like we always did.

Anna Kim:

One Xmas, as a single mum with very little money, I did my best to get presents for my three-year-old daughter. I made some fun stuff out of cardboard boxes. That kind of thing. On Christmas morning, she was opening her gifts when I realized that there was nothing for me under the tree and that seemed conspicuous and that she would notice this eventually, so I snuck upstairs and wrapped the very perfunctory underwear I’d gotten for myself a few days earlier. Then whipped back down, slipped ‘er under the tree and opened this present with great enthusiasm. Thanks Santa!

Alton Burns:

I was away at school in Halifax and things were going wrong for all sorts of reasons. I desperately wanted to get home to Toronto for Christmas but my flight was canceled due to shitty weather and I was stranded in the airport and couldn’t make it home for the 25th. I called home Christmas morning from a pay phone in the airport and my mother described for me every single thing that was happening, both of us crying like babies. It was so sad, but so beautiful, too.

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Comments

Molly I want you. The picture of you made me drool...

Posted by: The Minn at December 23, 2011 3:31 PM

I was about the most gullible could you could ever meet. If a grown-up told me something I believed it. So I remember one Christmas my two older brothers took me outside and told me to watch the sky cause they had heard that Santa was going to be coming over our house in a little bit. So there is little Logan outside in the Michigan night staring up at the sky waiting for Santa and his reindeer to fly over. I was smart enough to ask my brothers why he was flying over and not stopping to give me my stuff and they said that he was doing the kids in China first who were already asleep.

My brothers kept going inside every so often then they would come back out saying Santa was almost here so I'd keep staring up at the sky and shivering.

Finally they came out and said he was gone and I could come in. I said I never saw him! My brothers
said I was looking the wrong way.

Years later they told me mom had just wanted me out of the house so she could wrap a big present for me. The present was a big race track that was way cool till my brothers broke the cars by running them so fast they flew off the track and smashed into a wall.

I miss them all. Savor the times you have with the ones you love and Merry Christmas.

Posted by: logan at December 23, 2011 3:39 PM

Hello, Molly.

Posted by: maka at December 23, 2011 3:57 PM

This will be my first Christmas away from home. Will I be reading these stories over and over again on Christmas day, balling my eyes out? It's very possible.

Posted by: the_wakeful at December 23, 2011 4:42 PM

That clip made me cry. Darn you, MM, and darn you, Rachelle Maynard!!!

I grew up in a first-generation immigrant family, and nobody told us about Santa or anything growing up. But then I started kindergarten, and was surrounded by Christmas crafts and kids nattering on and on about Santa and how he would bring them presents.

Presents? I like presents, thought crafty, little, five-year-old Jelinas. I came home and announced to my family that I believed in Santa Claus and expected him to load our house with gifts on Christmas morning. My little sister and brother immediately cottoned on and the three of us talked constantly of Santa from that day on.

On Christmas morning, we woke up to a typical, gray, California winter morning. And, to our immense delight, there were presents waiting for us at the fireplace, with our names written on them in our mother's handwriting. From Santa, they said.

"Thank you, Santa!!" we bellowed as we tore into our gifts.

My parents hadn't had time to get a Christmas tree or any of the other trappings of the holiday, but they went out at the last minute and bought presents for each of us. Even though it wasn't their tradition, they did it for us.

These days, we don't really do much for Christmas. As kids, our main motivation in pumping up Christmas was our desire for presents, and when we grew out of our childish greed for gifts, there really wasn't much reason to keep up the old tradition. Nowadays, we'll just stay home, watch YouTube clips, and order Chinese food.

But I still remember that first Christmas, and am grateful to my Korean parents for trying their best to give us an American Christmas.

Fa ra ra ra ra, suckaz.

Posted by: Jelinas at December 23, 2011 4:51 PM

My very best Christmas was my daughter's first Christmas. Having come from a waaaay fucked-up family, my Christmases were mostly events you'd want to forget. But, I married the greatest guy--who proved to be the best father I could ever find for my children. I just remember sitting my 9 month-old down amongst all her simple little toys Santa had brought her, and being so completely thankful for the opportunity to start over and create the kind of Christmas (& family) that I'd always wished for. So corny, but so true.

Posted by: mona sterling at December 23, 2011 4:58 PM

Childishly? Probably Christmas 1996, which we spent in my grandma's tiny high rise in Franklin, PA, the first Christmas away from Arkansas. My parents, who had been fiercely anti-video game until then, got my sister and I the first Playstation. But I remember even more my mom putting her odd mix of fresh fruit, little chocolates, and things like Travel Connect Four into the heavy wool stockings that she took on every trip that wasn't in the dead of summer. Even 1200 miles from home, we still had stockings.

Grownup-ly? This year. My parents and sister are all grown and and employed and have plenty of stuff, so we canceled gift giving and are taking a family trip to NYC. I finally sacked up and did what I've been saying I'd do for years, and gave the gift money I'd have spent to the Texas SPCA. They need it more.

Posted by: Alabaster Salamander at December 23, 2011 5:16 PM

*sister and me.

Posted by: Alabaster Salamander at December 23, 2011 5:17 PM

Nice oldsmobuick.

Posted by: Gavin S. at December 23, 2011 5:19 PM

I don't remember how old I was, I'm terrible with time, but my favorite Christmas memory is...

At some point my sister decided to declare that Santa wasn't real. Naturally, being almost two years younger than her, this destroyed me. My father (I found out later) decided in retaliation to prove there was. One night as he put the presents out he also made sure to put boot footprints from the fireplace to the tree, around the tree, and back to the fireplace.

I'm sure that was a bitch to clean out of the carpet, but it worked.

Posted by: DeistBrawler at December 23, 2011 5:20 PM

My mom's voice, when with years of tentative, leery rapprochement, following years estrangement after years of abuse and insanity, I asked if maybe she and dad wanted to come have Christmas dinner with my "found family" & me. Just a gasp, and "Oh, /name/." I felt so brave and hopeful. And it was OK.

A close second comes crying all alone on Xmas the year I moved across the country to pursue my fortune (This worked out not at all. Apparently I suck.) I missed my "found family" - the ones who took me in when they realized I spent holidays alone, and do still. It's not even that. This year, like last, I have a place with them and if I need to be somewhere else, that's OK, too. They make room for me to be broken when I have to be.

My first family and I have done OK-enough in the meanwhile, a little at a time and all hard-edges and no skills at all sometimes. (I am sure we're funny to watch as we negotiate how to be anything at all together.) I was scared nearly to death earlier this year when my mom got sick. I just got to know her.

Yet, it's a privilege to have people in your life that you'll miss. I never thought I'd have family, beyond brute biology and a few legal presumptions. Now I have two. I am so very fortunate.

Posted by: BierceAmbrose at December 23, 2011 5:46 PM

My parents telling my sister and me, two years back, that they were divorcing after finally, painfully, sluggishly coming to the realization that their horrible marriage has not been working for 10 years. Seriously, they told us this on Christmas Eve of all days (we were broke and never really celebrated the holiday much anyway). I remember being happy that there would be no more prolonged inane fights and looked forward to a bigger room. Two years later, my parents are still miserable but at least my sister and I are relatively happy.

Posted by: severine at December 23, 2011 6:00 PM

Good God, severine - that's your Fondest Christmas Memory?!?

Kinda kills any one of the dozen or more I was thinking of sharing.

Oh well, I wanted to re-watch the 'American Horror Story' finale anyhoo.

Posted by: special snowflake at December 23, 2011 6:21 PM

@mona sterling: That isn't corny; that was beautiful!

Also, not trying to be creepy, but yeah, Molly, you be cute.

Posted by: Patrick the Bunny at December 23, 2011 6:38 PM

My brother, sister and I all sang. One year we were all away at school. My sister and I were in college and my brother was in prep school.
The year we all came home at Christmas we drove to a small Episcopal church we liked to attend and helped out the choir with all parts including a soprano descant that my sister knew. Everybody loved us.

Posted by: Arkansan at December 23, 2011 6:48 PM

On the week before Christmas when I was about 5, my father, who spent a lot of time at work, and I didn't see very often, decided to play my very favorite game with me one evening in the living room. It was a BIG deal that he wanted to play with me, and the game was "Airplane" in which I balanced on my stomach on the soles of his feet and was "flown" back and forth, giggling hysterically. Unfortunately, I was overenthusiastically "flown" into the carpet, and all the skin was scraped off my nose, leaving me with a huge red rugburn on my nose just in time for Christmas.

My mother was a seamstress, and so I wouldn't feel ugly for Christmas, she sewed a quickie Rudolph costume for me to wear. I look back at pictures of myself wearing a brown onesie with headband antlers, a cowbell, and a scuffed nose, and it makes me smile to remember how special I thought I was that day.

Posted by: Aratweth at December 23, 2011 7:34 PM

My favorite Christmas happened in 1994. I was an avid reader of Electronic Gaming Monthly (EGM) back then, and after reading countless articles about it, I needed to have "Earthworm Jim" for the Sega Genesis that year. So that was all I asked for. Seriously, "Earthworm Jim" or bust.

I saw no reason why I wouldn't get the only thing I asked for, so imagine my suprise when I woke up saw a couple bigger-than-a-Sega-Genesis-game-box shaped gifts under the tree with my name on them. A few quick shakes revealed that none of them had anything loose, so a bigger box with the game inside was ruled out (as well as Legos. Dammit!).

I opened my presents and actually got some pretty cool stuff, probably, but I was still pretty upset that there was no "Earthworm Jim" to be found because that was all I asked for. The last present I opened was one my parents told me I had to open last, and it was a tall rectangular shaped box, and heavy. I remember shaking it. I opened it to find a Capri Sun box taped on the inside with weights...and "Earthworm Jim". I got duped by the best parents ever.

And that's right, my fondest Christmas memory has to do with presents, man. Fucking presents.

Posted by: =DocDoom1= at December 23, 2011 7:45 PM

@Patrick--thank you! Mind you, that 9 month-old has grown into a quite challenging-to-parent 11 yr. old, but she hates Justin Bieber. Clearly, we've dome something right.

Posted by: mona sterling at December 23, 2011 7:46 PM

*done. Dammit.

Posted by: mona sterling at December 23, 2011 7:48 PM

Aratweth , thats a pretty great story. With your mom on the spot like that, I bet you had the best Halloween costumes.

Posted by: =DocDoom1= at December 23, 2011 8:04 PM

Although the boyfriend and I have been together for almost 9 years, we moved in together in Feb and this year will be our first 'wake up together on Christmas morning.' We're spending the weekend at his parents' huge house and my mom and my brother will be arriving tomorrow. It's a holiday weekend with the people that I love most in the world and I can't picture a better way to celebrate.

Have a great weekend of love, family, and holiday cheer Pajibians!

Posted by: thatsjesstastic! at December 23, 2011 8:50 PM

@ =DocDoom1=

I really did! One year it was Glenda, one year, she did a complete recreation of one of Rose's gowns from Titanic that was pretty spectacular. I was a nun one year, but you can't win 'em all...

Posted by: Aratweth at December 23, 2011 9:16 PM

damn Molly, you fine

Posted by: sailboat at December 23, 2011 9:27 PM

Great news, thatsjesstastic!, and here's hoping your 'wake up together on Christmas morning' scenario works out exactly as you wish it to be.

Back in the dark ages of the Bush administration, I had already promised my family to be home for Christmas (700 miles away) when I met a heartbreakingly beautiful woman just a few days earlier, and ended up using about 12 hours of long distance during that time to form a relationship we might not have gotten otherwise, not to mention a night of some incredible 'reunion sex' when I came back.

Right after that, she went through this inexplicable 'moody' period, getting more depressed (and depressing) to the point of intolerance by New Year's Eve. It was something about her mother dying over the holidays a few years earlier, which would have been fine if she had let me in on it; instead, her distant attitude pissed me off so much that I couldn't even wait for sunrise on New Year's Day to pack my shit and get the hell out of her house.

Probably not the most uplifting Christmas romance story, but then again, severine's "fond memory" isn't exactly a Capraesque tearjerker, either. I mean, really, severine - did you even read the title of this 'Think Piece'? Your Fondest Christmas Memories??

It must suck to be you.

Posted by: special snowflake at December 23, 2011 10:24 PM

That's a pretty woman.

Posted by: Lucas at December 23, 2011 10:49 PM

special snowflake, that's super great of you to condescendingly assume that my life sucks. Yes it wasn't all that great with my fucked up parents and being constantly under the threat of bankruptcy. I've pulled myself up, got into college and doing well for myself. That Christmas was sort of a turning point for me. Yes, it IS my fondest Christmas memory. Thanks.
I apologise if I brought anyone's mood down with my post. That really wasn't my intention.

Posted by: severine at December 23, 2011 11:37 PM

No, no, no...let's not do this here, OK? It's Christmas & everyone's entitled to whatever memory they want to share. It's hard enough navigating relationships with family--no need to get into negative bullshit with strangers. Severine, I wish you continued happiness & a Merry Christmas.

Posted by: mona sterling at December 24, 2011 12:15 AM

At the dinner party people were asked to recount a Christmas experience that was vivid for them, and by no means did I take that to mean fond. In fact, there were another half dozen stories that I edited out so that the piece wasn't too long. One story was about getting into a fight over a parking spot on Christmas Eve, and experience the narrator actually welcomed and found entirely cathartic, having found the Christmas season frustrating, infuriating and insincere. Another story was a man who never get along with his family, and as such as soon as Christmas dinner was over went out with a bunch of friends. He was a straight guy, and the only bar open that night was a gay club and it was here he met a man weeping at the bar, ostracized by his family for being gay and suffering incredible loneliness and rejection. They talked and drank together all night, and in an ironic twist, shared a kind of lovely and connected Christmas together.

Christmas is a very tough time for a lot of people, marked by absence rather than abundance and I think that all experiences are wholly valid, pivots upon which a life might swing. And hell, often it takes years and years and years before we know which Christmas was truly important and why.

Posted by: Michael Murray at December 24, 2011 12:33 AM

Good point, Michael Murray.

And I'm terribly sorry to have offended you for the expense of a miscalculated joke, severine. Just recently I stumbled upon a brilliant piece from 2009 written by a guy named Jason Calacanis regarding "empathy and the Internet," in which he terms a person's particular cluelessness to the actual content of any given commentary as Internet Asperger’s Syndrome (IAS), wherein "it makes the individual focused on very specific behaviors... while decreasing their capacity for basic empathy and communication. It’s almost as if you trade off intensity in one area for common decency and communications in another area– not that the person has a choice."

That may not be the most accurate definition of my comments on this post, but I get the gist of the term itself: one can be so focused on mining humor from another person's commentary to the point of being completely apathetic towards not only that person's intended meaning, but also to the dismissal of that individual's very existence outside of the proffered material that one, namely I, would choose to exploit for a single narrow-minded purpose that excludes consideration of the original author as a fellow human being who might not appreciate their sincere contribution to a post being used as material to solicit a humorous response where one is entirely inappropriate.

I sincerely apologize for this affliction that I acquired and recklessly demonstrated in such an ignorant fashion. And for what it's worth, please take comfort in my realization that, in more instances than I care to recall, it probably sucks more to be me.

(And when you erase the word 'probably', we might end up being in total agreement with each other.)

Along with mona, I wish you continued happiness & a Merry Christmas, and "no more negative bullshit with strangers" like me.

Posted by: special snowflake at December 24, 2011 3:04 AM

Snark AND apologies in this thread? It's a Christmas miracle.

Well done, all.

Posted by: mswas at December 24, 2011 8:58 AM

I come from a totally fucked up family. Hence, why I, and the majority of enlisted end up running into the military. I've seen everything from cops showing up at my house on Christmas Eve to arrest my brother for meth, to getting smack in the head with a glass bottle cause my mom had shitty aim and missed my dad (weird side note, the two have been married now going on 50 years...don't ask me why).

I was back from my first deployment. I had traveled about 30 hours in two days myself in a shitty car that barely ran, through horrific traffic, to hang out with people that I could barely stand. Get to the house, and its the same shit, violent fights just simmering under the surface and a under current of hate just permeating every conversation.

Well my sweet grandma showed up. She was awesome. Somehow raise eight kids basically on her own. And she had a wicked sense of humor. She walks in and does her best Aunt Bethany impression and asked my dad "Is Rusty still in the Navy Clark?"

I end up laughing non-stop for about 30 minutes. Every time I looked at her, I couldn't stop laughing. None of the rest of my family understood the reference. She totally made the chaos worth it.

Posted by: Diablo at December 24, 2011 9:05 AM

special snowflake, I was momentarily annoyed, not particularly offended. :)
And thank you very much for the information about 'Internet Asperger's Syndrome'. Very interesting and true. I think there's also a kind of overwhelming need to be the smartest/wittiest person whenever one is engaging in a conversation in a website. I, too, have been guilty of this.
No offense taken and have a great year ahead! Happy New Year's!

Posted by: severine at December 24, 2011 9:51 AM

I love all these comments/experiences, I have to share my own.

I recall my first Christmas away from home; I dropped out of McGill after the second year and without the explicit blessing of my parents--they didn't say don't go but made it clear they'd have prefered me to be in school--travelled through Europe and the Middle East. I ended up in Khartoum, Sudan and got a job with a local newspaper. When Christmas came, I found some Americans and Brits to hang with and we agreed to do a traditional Christmas dinner.

It's a hot dusty country and it was not Christmassy at all, but the day before a package arrived from my sister and inside was a very small Christmas tree; it was actually a convincing one and we all wrapped stuff for each other and then I timed an international phone call, a big deal then because you had to book it through the central phone exchange, and got to speak with my whole family, Christmas Day. It made me miss home but I was so happy to have made the connection, and knew what the scene was like at the other end during that phone call.

Posted by: D.Patrick Mason at December 24, 2011 11:41 AM

Most of my childhood memories of Christmas involve my parents morning argument to go with their coffee ( and Dad's vodka) that would set the tone for the day.

As a mother, I,of course, loved Christmas morn with Mr. Kirbyjay and the 2 little Kirbyjays when they were little, but I actually enjoy the holidays more now that they are older (24 and 20). They help a lot and the 4 of us sit around on Christmas morning and watch our crazy yellow lab tear into his presents. It's alway fun.

Posted by: kirbyjay at December 24, 2011 11:49 AM

When you get to be on the other side of 50 years, there are so many Christmas stories good and bad (and sometimes downright heartbreaking) to choose from. But Christmas 2009 was a bit of a miracle for me.
I was 'exiled' in the UK going on 6 months, trying to sort out my status so I could join my fiance and son in Switzerland. I had resigned myself to spending that Christmas alone in my little flat in Souf London, when my fiance called me on December 23 saying he had a letter from the canton saying I could indeed return to Switzerland (this didn't turn out to be quite true, but anyways). Christmas Eve found me on a plane flying into Geneva and back into my house with my love, my son and my kittehs. I was, and am, so grateful for that little gift from the fates.

Posted by: brite at December 24, 2011 12:06 PM

mswas, your "Christmas miracle" comment is way more accurate than you could know: I worked hard on that last apology/post - writing is usually difficult for me anyway, since I'm so anal about proper spelling and grammar but still make the most obvious errors, and it was important to me to be as sincere as possible in acknowledging my lapse of online etiquette towards serevine, along with the Pajiba readership who, collectively and consistently, are much more aware of the temperature of any given room than I usually turn out to be.

So after a good hour and a half of intense writing, editing and careful revisions, when I finally decide to hit the 'submit' button, imagine my ever-increasing agitation as I watch it load... and load... and continue to load, with that tiny blue bastard circle just rotating endlessly in the upper corner of the otherwise frozen, dysfunctional screen that mocks my discomfort at having my entire computer held hostage while I helplessly tremble with increasing rage at the prospect of completely losing the text I worked so carefully on for such a long time and no, no, NOOO I do not DARE click 'refresh' which absolutely never frigging fails to heinously, and with malice aforethought, cruelly delete and forever erase so many of my past efforts with a deadly efficiency that would baffle 'Verbal' Kent more than any puff-of-smoke-Kaiser-Soscha stunt ever could and I just end up so disgusted that I storm away before I impulsively grab the nearest heavy object to smash my computer screen into oblivion and instead just go to bed and curse at my ceiling until the exhaustion of all that anger gives way to a restless and unsatisfying sleep state that lingers agonizingly slow and then on to this morning’s depressing and still-unresolved situation and dammit if that smug little s.o.b. blue circle ain’t still rotating, and rotating, like a goddam hyper little cocker spaniel making endless circles in the back yard because it can’t grasp the concept of a collar attached to a chain that’s only going to go as far as physically possible but noooo, stupid little doggie keeps thinking the next go round will be different, the next damn trip around the clothesline is gonna set it’s ignorant doggie ass free and that conviction will not cease to exist until it’s insanely pounding doggie heart just explodes through its thinly-boned doggie ribcage from running so much it’s eventually forgotten that it's supposed to breathe every once in awhile..

..so, in my newly-revived rage I dejectedly pummel the ctl/alt/delete keys as violently as my fingers allow and terminate the entire session much as a well-oiled guillotine swiftly severs a human head that rolls around the wicker basket even before its cleanly-sliced arterial vein has had a chance to commence spurting its crimson fountain of bloody--

and, erummm... no. I-- er, just- really, I’m very sorry, but NO, dammit! I just do not have the energy, nor that newly-fresh blush of empathy that could possibly sway me to start the damn writing project all over again, I’ll just take whatever vicious criticism and stinging vitriol that’s been heaped upon me since molly rightly chastised my comments to severine, and sadly accept that I am once again an outcast apart from a community I only wanted to fit in with. Bah, humbug, in-damn-DEED, you cruel and heartless world!

So, after a few hours of glumly going about my day of pouting and self-pity, I decide to indulge my current misery even further, to once again visit the Pajiba site and prepare to wince at the expected backlash of withering admonitions that are surely awaiting my miserable self.

And that’s when the “Christmas miracle” is revealed: my apology/post DID go through!
It had gone through when I first clicked the ‘submit’ button 8 hours (and 8,000+ profanities) earlier!!
And mswas is giving me a pass, and, and -gasp- even severine has thoughtfully and graciously submitted an eloquent acceptance of my apology!!! Sure, I may still be considered an asshole by the majority, but I was at least granted my shot at some measure of redemption, and.. and- sniff, well, gosh darn it, I just.. oh, forgive my gushing, but - God Bless Us, Everyone! Cut to epilogue...

I will, of course, continue to make inappropriate comments on different websites, albeit with intentions that said comments will not properly translate with cohesive accuracy in my uniquely written form. But for today, this singular day, my seemingly permanent online incompetence was miraculously overlooked, and my attempt to own up to the damage was indeed posted, both intact and timely. With my disastrous history of screwing up even the simplest computer tasks, this incident has resulted in an unexpected miracle that perhaps only a time like Christmas could provide.

I also am "on the other side of 50 years," brite, and proof that we're never too old to be blessed with a brand-new memory, one that I’ll hopefully live many more years to fondly look back on.

Posted by: special snowflake at December 24, 2011 3:13 PM

My favorite Christmas memory seems much...smaller than the others here.

The first Christmas in our first apartment with my ex. We were broke. Just a few small presents. No decorations. Her first Christmas away from her family. She had moved across the country for me. She had to work a little later than I had to on X-Mas eve. I went out with the few bucks I had, and found a small tree. Some dollar store lights to decorate the apartment and tree. It was all set up, waiting for her. We just laid on the floor, looking at that Charlie Brown looking tree. Watching the lights blink...and the snow fall.

It isn't much...but regardless of what happened later with us, I know I did at least one thing right.

Posted by: Sean at December 24, 2011 4:53 PM

My dad had a terrible childhood, with parents who never once told him they loved or were proud of him. Because of that, he put everything he had into making my childhood a happy one. Every Christmas, my parents would have me sleep with them so that I couldn't come out before they did. My dad would light a fire in the fireplace (in Texas, so we had to turn up the ac to do it), then spread a trail of nuts and candies from the fireplace to the presents (from the hole in Santa's bag). We'd have cookies for breakfast and listen to Nat King Cole while we opened presents. Christmas has always been my favorite holiday because my dad made it so special.

Well, my dad passed away a couple of years ago, and my mom was hospitalized last week, canceling our plans for a family visit and meaning I have had to leave my children and husband at home to come take care of her. My mom is going to be fine, and it's nice to see her, but I miss my boys and I'm feeling very blue tonight. I hope you're all out there with your loved ones, enjoying some well-deserved holiday cheer. Keep posting the happy memories, they're helping to cheer me up quite a bit!

Posted by: McSquish at December 24, 2011 9:18 PM

McSquish--

I haven't been married very long and my mother-in-law, who loves shopping for Christmas, didn't really know what to get me. My wife told her that I liked baseball and so she went out and bought me a box of baseball cards. Nothing special, just a bunch of cards from the some year in the 1990's, and when I started to open the packages I was unexpectedly transported in time, seeing the names and faces of players I had completely forgotten about. And with each player I was reintroduced to I remembered a story, a particular time and place in my life and how that player, however briefly and tangentially, popped into it, and it was a beautiful and surprising gift of memory.

Posted by: Michael Murray at December 24, 2011 11:57 PM

Yeah, that clip is kinda touching, until you put it in the context of getting a Cabbage Patch Doll and then it becomes extremely, extremely hilarious.

My fondest memory was three years ago, the last time I saw my mother. It's very long and difficult to explain the circumstances but we had a moment where I will always remember it as being the first time I felt a connection with my mother as a person, instead of just mother and daughter

Posted by: Laurie at December 25, 2011 12:04 PM

SpecialSnowflake, that's why I now write in notepad if it's going to be a particularly long post. Learned the hard way.

My fondest Christmas memories are a blur of the first six years of my daughter's life. Nothing very specific, just an overwhelming feeling of happiness to be a father to such a wonderful little girl, beautiful, happy, tantrum-free. Just the perfect child.

The Christmases that followed were much less so. After the ex essentially abandoned me, Kaia and her dog, Bear, to be with the scumbag she'd been screwing. Three months later, after her lawyer convinced her she needed to spend more time with her daughter in order to win custody (she had barely seen her in that time), she did everything in her power to screw up every Christmas I was to have with Kaia from there on out (not to mention every other holiday and birthday). Even after the custody arrangements were finally made, about two years later, she would do whatever she could to ruin it, not only for me, but for Kaia as well. Narcissistic sociopath doesn't even come close to describing her. She went as far as promise her a trip to Disney on Christmas, "...but you'll be with your father. Too bad, your cousins and step-sister and brother will be there." Or she'd take her somewhere, with the promise of bringing her back in time for our Christmas, only to arrive so late that any plans we might have had were destroyed. Half the time she achieved this by taking advantage of my love for Kaia and desire for her to have a good Christmas without drama. Unfortunately, the woman fed on drama. And beer.

Once I got full custody after 6 years of neglect and abuse (among many other things), all that stopped. Kaia was old enough to know what her mother was like and what she was doing. I didn't have to say anything to her. She'd learned by age 8 that she was smarter than her mother. She had gotten in an argument with her mother over the sun. Yeah. Her mom claimed that the sun was a planet and got mad at Kaia for arguing with her.

So yeah, my memories of Christmas are mostly stained with that.

Flash forward to yesterday. Most of you know my story. I won't belabor the point beyond saying; I'm still here, and celebrating the holiday with my daughter and the rest of my family, so fuck you, cancer, and fuck you, Donna. This has been the best Christmas I can remember. Until next year's!

Posted by: Protoguy at December 26, 2011 2:03 AM

I bought my PC 2 years ago for 700 dollars ( a mid range NON gameing PC ) and it ran every single game I throwed at and it still does . If I spend 100-200 dollars on a new video card it will run games 2-3 more years, without a problem.

Posted by: Crissy Floyd at January 26, 2012 9:48 AM

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Your Fondest Christmas Memories

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