Christmas is here again. The season that sends many adults into depression but all the kids seem to need valium waiting for that magical morning. I remember the Christmas days when Mighty Mouse was the number one cartoon.
We were six kids and I don’t know how Mom and Dad did it but each kid seemed to feel as if they had the best Christmas every year. I remember the year I received the very first G. I. Joe. It was the package deal including a back pack, a M-1 rifle, helmet, boots etc.
He was my favorite gift that year. I played with him all morning and moved on to another toy that afternoon. My stepbrother Ronny came to me and wanted to show me something. We walked in the front yard and there was my G. I. Joe set up perfect in a fox hole. There was a small log for him to shoot over. His legs were positioned as a real soldier would. He had all his supplies within grasp for immediate use.
When I was a child we used our imagination. I was examining the scene very close. I was looking from all angles. It seemed that Ronny had taken care of every little detail. I remember enjoying how real the setting seemed.
While I was looking I noticed that Ronny had backed up and I heard the sizzle of a fuse on a cherry bomb. The bomb flew right by my head, landed in the fox hole and exploded. Kaboom, the explosion happened and a big fire started. He had placed a mayonnaise lid filled with gasoline in the bottom of the hole.
One leg was blown off and his face was on fire. My G. I. Joe was a casualty on Christmas Day. So much for the season to be jolly.
The following Christmas was great. A pool table was left by Santa for all of us. The piles of toys seemed larger that year and everyone was very happy with what they received.
My stepbrothers Ronny and George Jr. received a cool electric race track with red and blue Corvet cars. For the next month I tried to play with the race track over and over but they wouldn’t let me play. One day I got frustrated and went whining to Mom to tell her they wouldn’t let me play with their race track. She looked at me and said, “Their race track.” At that moment I knew they had gotten up early and moved the track from my pile and placed it in theirs before any of the adults woke up.
I went in and snatched those cars up. The bumpers and fenders may have been cracked from the abuse but they were mine and they never were to play with them again.
I am sure every family has stories about Christmas to share. I hope they are more pleasant than these but the key word is, family. Merry Christmas to all of you and please have a safe Holiday.
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