1980 :: A Christmas Story

I was seven years old when I made this ornament for my mother. I remember being so excited to wear the hawaiian shirt for my school picture because my parents had surprised my two brothers, sister, and I with a trip to Hawaii that previous summer. It was an amazing vacation. I remember a three legged frog by the hotel pool, and steering the golf cart while my dad played golf. life was sweet. Weeks before we went to Hawaii my Grandma Stowell had a heart attack and died at sixty-five. I remember thinking I would make sure to give all the girls in my class the same amount of heart candies next Valentine's Day, so that none of them would have a heart attack from too much heart. I really loved my Grandma Stowell. Missing her made our time in Hawaii seem magical and really special. I think we all understood there was an unspoken rule to get along, because my mom really needed a vacation.
Christmas of 1980 is one of the fondest memories I have of childhood. Every Christmas Eve my family would get all dressed up and go to this fancy restaurant in the gated neighborhood where I grew up and eat a five star, gourmet meal. I always got the filet mignon, garlic/horseradish string beans, and mashed potatoes, with a wild mushroom gravy. It will always be my favorite (even though I cannot remember the last time I have had it). After dinner we would return home and open our Christmas Eve gift (which was always new pajamas), and then it was off to bed for all of the children. My brothers and I shared a bedroom growing up. In 1980 my brother Scott was twelve, Marc was nine, and I was seven. My brothers had come up with a grand scheme to find out what we got for Christmas before we opened our gifts on Christmas morning. They had planned to execute the plan without me but realized they had to bring me into it because we shared a room and they knew I would have squealed had they not included me. I am the youngest and I used what I had to keep in the loop and to be included. So, we waited until well past midnight (I was barely awake), army crawled to the Christmas tree, and carefully made multiple trips back and forth from the tree to our bedroom with all the gifts. We proceeded to unwrap all of the gifts carefully, and look inside. After viewing the gifts with great joy, we rewrapped them and placed the tags back on the correct gifts (to the best of our memory). Our plan went off without a hitch. It was amazing. I swear to this day I only laughed in my hands once, and It was Marc's fault for passing gas loud. The next morning we gathered around  and began opening our gifts. All was going well and we acted quite surprised and approving of each gift. We thought we were in the clear until my dad opened a very interesting gift. The tag said, "to: Tom, from: Santa," but the contents were clearly for a ten year old girl to wear. It only got worse from there. My brothers and I thought it was so funny. My parents tried to be upset, but they had trouble holding back their chuckles while trying to sound disappointed. My sister was confused most of the morning, because she wondered how it all got so messed up. My brother Marc always told the story much bigger and better than I remember but it is still one of my fondest childhood memories, and a Christmas story to share. Merry Christmas!