Is That All You Got, Santa?
The first Christmas my family spent without my father should have gone down in the books as “The Year of the Disappearing Dad.”
The first Christmas my family spent without my father should have gone down in the books as “The Year of the Disappearing Dad.”
He only moved across town, but he left my mom to raise four young children by herself. So how come more than 50 years later, I’m still getting blamed for ruining Christmas?
Before we rewind that episode, know that I made peace with my father long before he died. But when I was 8 years old, I was pretty angry with him. The tears were fresh.
That year, my Uncle Gerry surprised us by donning a Santa Claus suit and showing up at our Manchester apartment with a bag full of gifts. “The Year Uncle Gerry Saved Christmas” didn’t quite play out as planned, however. Imagine an alternative version of “A Christmas Story” in which Ralphie Parker, the kid whose pent-up angst prompts him to finally pummel that bully, does not get his beloved BB gun.
I didn’t need a Red Ryder rifle to cause havoc in our home. I just needed to use my words.
After Uncle Santa handed out the gifts, and my siblings and I finished tearing the wrappings off them, legend has it that I famously said:
“Is that all?”
My Uncle Gerry reminded me of that story recently. It was the first time I can remember hearing his version, though my mom has repeated it many times over the years. I get it, Uncle Gerry, you go through the trouble to buy a Santa suit, round up a bunch of toys, give it your best, “Ho! Ho! Ho,” and for all your kindness, you get “meh” from an ungrateful kid.
No one has ever vouched for my version of story, in which I indeed said those terrible words, but only because I wanted to know if we were done with this unwrapping ritual so I could move on to playing with my new toys.
Was I really that terrible of a kid? I mean, cut me some slack, Uncle Santa. Things were a bit dicey back then, and they were about to get a little worse before they got better.
After all these years, I will finally plead guilty to this one, however. Memories are fuzzy things. We all would rather believe we had the best of intentions rather than face the darker side of ourselves, especially around Christmas. And I’m of a mind to forgive my 8-year-old self — even if my family is still getting around to it.
Toys for Tots helps needy kids at Christmas
Have yourself a merry merry Christmas
Have yourself a good time
But remember the kids who got nothin’
While you’re drinkin’ down your wine
— From “Father Christmas” by the Kinks (written by Ray Davies)
That first Christmas on her own, my mom and Uncle Santa got help from Toys for Tots, the program founded by the Marine Corps in 1947. Every year, Toys for Tots accepts new, unwrapped toys collected through local campaigns nationwide.
Check out toysfortots.org for more info, but chances are, you’ll find a collection box at a local business during this year’s giving season. The program includes at least 10 campaigns around the Granite State.
The kids will be grateful. Some more than others.
