| General Non-Fiction posted October 8, 2021 |
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A memoir of Christmas Presents
Christmas Presents Past
by Terry Broxson
I was born in Texas in 1946, so I don't remember all the Christmas presents, but some were special.
I realize now that our little family was poor when we started, but I certainly never knew that back then and especially not at Christmas. My first memory must have been at about six. I got a red Roy Rogers Cowboy hat, and Lionel electric train. It was round, about six or so feet across, and gave my dad a heck of a time putting it together and making it work. But when it did it was cool.
When I was eleven, I was pretty sure that there was no Santa Claus. But when I woke up on Christmas morning there was a book under my pillow. I liked to read even then, and was astonished, "The Night before Christmas." I ran into the living room and explained to my mother and father, "Look what Santa left me." It was then I noticed the neatest red Schwinn bicycle any kid could ever want.
My parents never exchanged more than one gift for each other. Thinking about it now I am sure they spent all they could afford on their two boys, so little was left for them.
When Zoe and I got married we lived over 300 miles away, but we made a point of always visiting either just before or at Christmas. On one occasion my dad gave mother seven watches all wrapped separately. These were not Rolex or Paget or the like. The only gold was paint. They were bright, each from a different manufacturer, different sizes, all had batteries. He did not say anything and all she said was, "Thank you".
I found out much later she wore a different one each day of the week. Mother outlived dad by twelve years. When she died, we found the watches neatly packed, waiting for new batteries.
I was married to Zoe for 45 Christmases. The sadness of quiet the last few years never diminishes the joy of those times.
While we never had children, this woman turned into a little kid at Christmas. "I love Christmas!" she would exclaim. On the day after Thanksgiving, the tree (and later trees) had to go up.
Zoe had rules. The man's job was to put up the tree and do the lights. At this point the man was through decorating. A man would surely put the decorations in the wrong place, not treat them with the respect they deserved, and possibly break one!
A man does have one other responsibility, get lots of great presents for his wife.
I did offer a corollary theory: a man should establish a date for the decorations to come down. Turns out, this was only a theory. It was dismissed as nagging.
In 1978, we moved from an apartment to a townhome in Oaklawn, in the heart of Dallas. The real estate agent described these new homes as "perfect for the sophisticated urbanites." Well dang, sign us up!
When we closed on the house, counting the change on the dresser we had $240 and still had utilities to pay. That first Christmas we agreed on a budget to spend no more than $20 on each other.
I told Zoe I had found a present that was similar to one that just sold for $10,000, but not to worry, my gift for her was in budget. An original movie poster of Gone with the Wind did sell for $10,000, but a rerelease of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid sold for $8. With Paul Newman and Robert Redford on it I knew it was a winner. Zoe spent $50 framing it, blowing the whole budget idea.
By the early 1990's, the company my friend Kirby and I had helped to start finally began to make money. The first year of our success, we gave ourselves very nice Christmas bonuses. That was a first.
Under the Christmas tree that year there were the usual number of presents for Zoe to "grip and rip", but she saved the red box from Neiman Marcus until last. Inside was a gift certificate for $5,000. She fanned herself with the certificate and said "Oh my, I am going to lose fifteen pounds before I spend a cent!"
Three months later (having gained 3 pounds) she went on a shopping spree of a lifetime.
Christmas Story contest entry
I was born in Texas in 1946, so I don't remember all the Christmas presents, but some were special.
I realize now that our little family was poor when we started, but I certainly never knew that back then and especially not at Christmas. My first memory must have been at about six. I got a red Roy Rogers Cowboy hat, and Lionel electric train. It was round, about six or so feet across, and gave my dad a heck of a time putting it together and making it work. But when it did it was cool.
When I was eleven, I was pretty sure that there was no Santa Claus. But when I woke up on Christmas morning there was a book under my pillow. I liked to read even then, and was astonished, "The Night before Christmas." I ran into the living room and explained to my mother and father, "Look what Santa left me." It was then I noticed the neatest red Schwinn bicycle any kid could ever want.
My parents never exchanged more than one gift for each other. Thinking about it now I am sure they spent all they could afford on their two boys, so little was left for them.
When Zoe and I got married we lived over 300 miles away, but we made a point of always visiting either just before or at Christmas. On one occasion my dad gave mother seven watches all wrapped separately. These were not Rolex or Paget or the like. The only gold was paint. They were bright, each from a different manufacturer, different sizes, all had batteries. He did not say anything and all she said was, "Thank you".
I found out much later she wore a different one each day of the week. Mother outlived dad by twelve years. When she died, we found the watches neatly packed, waiting for new batteries.
I was married to Zoe for 45 Christmases. The sadness of quiet the last few years never diminishes the joy of those times.
While we never had children, this woman turned into a little kid at Christmas. "I love Christmas!" she would exclaim. On the day after Thanksgiving, the tree (and later trees) had to go up.
Zoe had rules. The man's job was to put up the tree and do the lights. At this point the man was through decorating. A man would surely put the decorations in the wrong place, not treat them with the respect they deserved, and possibly break one!
A man does have one other responsibility, get lots of great presents for his wife.
I did offer a corollary theory: a man should establish a date for the decorations to come down. Turns out, this was only a theory. It was dismissed as nagging.
In 1978, we moved from an apartment to a townhome in Oaklawn, in the heart of Dallas. The real estate agent described these new homes as "perfect for the sophisticated urbanites." Well dang, sign us up!
When we closed on the house, counting the change on the dresser we had $240 and still had utilities to pay. That first Christmas we agreed on a budget to spend no more than $20 on each other.
I told Zoe I had found a present that was similar to one that just sold for $10,000, but not to worry, my gift for her was in budget. An original movie poster of Gone with the Wind did sell for $10,000, but a rerelease of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid sold for $8. With Paul Newman and Robert Redford on it I knew it was a winner. Zoe spent $50 framing it, blowing the whole budget idea.
By the early 1990's, the company my friend Kirby and I had helped to start finally began to make money. The first year of our success, we gave ourselves very nice Christmas bonuses. That was a first.
Under the Christmas tree that year there were the usual number of presents for Zoe to "grip and rip", but she saved the red box from Neiman Marcus until last. Inside was a gift certificate for $5,000. She fanned herself with the certificate and said "Oh my, I am going to lose fifteen pounds before I spend a cent!"
Three months later (having gained 3 pounds) she went on a shopping spree of a lifetime.
I realize now that our little family was poor when we started, but I certainly never knew that back then and especially not at Christmas. My first memory must have been at about six. I got a red Roy Rogers Cowboy hat, and Lionel electric train. It was round, about six or so feet across, and gave my dad a heck of a time putting it together and making it work. But when it did it was cool.
When I was eleven, I was pretty sure that there was no Santa Claus. But when I woke up on Christmas morning there was a book under my pillow. I liked to read even then, and was astonished, "The Night before Christmas." I ran into the living room and explained to my mother and father, "Look what Santa left me." It was then I noticed the neatest red Schwinn bicycle any kid could ever want.
My parents never exchanged more than one gift for each other. Thinking about it now I am sure they spent all they could afford on their two boys, so little was left for them.
When Zoe and I got married we lived over 300 miles away, but we made a point of always visiting either just before or at Christmas. On one occasion my dad gave mother seven watches all wrapped separately. These were not Rolex or Paget or the like. The only gold was paint. They were bright, each from a different manufacturer, different sizes, all had batteries. He did not say anything and all she said was, "Thank you".
I found out much later she wore a different one each day of the week. Mother outlived dad by twelve years. When she died, we found the watches neatly packed, waiting for new batteries.
I was married to Zoe for 45 Christmases. The sadness of quiet the last few years never diminishes the joy of those times.
While we never had children, this woman turned into a little kid at Christmas. "I love Christmas!" she would exclaim. On the day after Thanksgiving, the tree (and later trees) had to go up.
Zoe had rules. The man's job was to put up the tree and do the lights. At this point the man was through decorating. A man would surely put the decorations in the wrong place, not treat them with the respect they deserved, and possibly break one!
A man does have one other responsibility, get lots of great presents for his wife.
I did offer a corollary theory: a man should establish a date for the decorations to come down. Turns out, this was only a theory. It was dismissed as nagging.
In 1978, we moved from an apartment to a townhome in Oaklawn, in the heart of Dallas. The real estate agent described these new homes as "perfect for the sophisticated urbanites." Well dang, sign us up!
When we closed on the house, counting the change on the dresser we had $240 and still had utilities to pay. That first Christmas we agreed on a budget to spend no more than $20 on each other.
I told Zoe I had found a present that was similar to one that just sold for $10,000, but not to worry, my gift for her was in budget. An original movie poster of Gone with the Wind did sell for $10,000, but a rerelease of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid sold for $8. With Paul Newman and Robert Redford on it I knew it was a winner. Zoe spent $50 framing it, blowing the whole budget idea.
By the early 1990's, the company my friend Kirby and I had helped to start finally began to make money. The first year of our success, we gave ourselves very nice Christmas bonuses. That was a first.
Under the Christmas tree that year there were the usual number of presents for Zoe to "grip and rip", but she saved the red box from Neiman Marcus until last. Inside was a gift certificate for $5,000. She fanned herself with the certificate and said "Oh my, I am going to lose fifteen pounds before I spend a cent!"
Three months later (having gained 3 pounds) she went on a shopping spree of a lifetime.
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