Looking back on the Christmas seasons, only one memory stands out vivid and distinct from the rest. Oh I have a multitude of memories and associations revolving around this time of year, but they all get mixed up in my head. I can only pinpoint one Christmas memory, and it stands out very clear. It is odd how some things you forget as soon as they happen, but others you remember for years and years, even though they weren't all that important.  Perhaps you ate right that day and got all your vitamins, or maybe you were just really really wide awake at the time.  Some things just stick out. The Christmas Morning of 1985 just sticks out for some reason. Here's what I recall...

     First I should set the mood of this Christmas, for it was a bitter-sweet Christmas season. I was the youngest kid in the family, 5 years younger than my sister, Pam. Our family was living in a tiny apartment on the west side which we had just moved into. Pam and I were forced to share a bedroom for the first time in our lives. Plans to build a house in the country land my parents owned fell through and we were stuck in the tiny apartment for several years. I was very upset about moving out of the house I was born in, and I never did adjust to the apartment. I was attending 3rd grade at the time at Western Hills Elementary. I was in a terrible class, and threats upon my continued well-being were made daily by the local disadvantaged crowd. I don't remember particularly minding it though. Only now that I know what it is like to not be threatened daily do I appreciate the freedom from it. At the time, I knew little else. It was a violent class. But if I call those who threatened me disadvantaged, I can hardly distance them from myself. My parents were in the middle of profound financial and marital woes. On several occasions my parents would engage in terrible shouting matches that would send Pam and I running to our room (we shared one) and being very quiet and scared. Dad was unemployed and had been for several months. Mom had taken a job at a nearby ice cream shop earning minimum wage or just above, and she was away from home most of the time. The financial dilemma was undoubtedly what brought out the marital problems. Happens all the time. It became a tense household, and I can recall that tense atmosphere quite well. It is strange once again that I don't remember being particularly unhappy at the time. I don't know as if I ever processed what was happening or understood the gravity of the situation like I do now. Maybe I was unhappy about it and just don't remember it. At any rate, I recall being mostly happy.
     I kept a journal of things back then, and though it takes a trained eye to decipher my 7 year-old handwriting, I can still read most of it and make sense out of it. The financial crisis that had surrounded our family grew greater every day that passed. Mom did not earn enough at the ice-cream shop to pay for daily expenses, and every day Mom and Dad sunk deeper and deeper into debt. I can only imagine the strain this must have put on both of them. I hope I never live it first hand. In the journal I documented a talk with Dad. He and I were sitting on the couch  December 8th and the Christmas tree was still not up.  I tried to convince Dad at the time to help me get it out and set it up. He told me that there would not be any money to pay for Christmas presents, so I shouldn't expect much. This much I have written down in my crude 15 year-old journal. I am sure the comment wasn't meant to hurt my feelings, but it did. It still does today.  Some things are better left unsaid. So from that moment on I had doubts about Christmas at all.  No seven year old kid should have doubts about Christmas coming.
     So this brings us to the memory that stands out in my mind so well.  It was Christmas morning, 4:30 AM and I woke up. Usually we went to sleep with the door closed because Dad would stay up later than us watching TV. Later in the night, he would open it before he turned in.  At 4:30 that morning I woke up and saw a warm glow emanating from the living room with quiet intensity.  It was blue-green, and very friendly. I hopped out of bed and walked to the doorway of the room to look out into the living room where the Christmas Tree was. I can still remember it well. I looked out at that tree and it was like magic held it together. A waking dream in which all the ornaments presented a circus of colors and shapes. The softly glowing lights of all different colors sparkled and twinkled off of every plastic surface and metallic trimming. The gentle warm glow from the multi-colored lights flowed over every object in the room, lighting up every corner and reflecting off of the televison screen and windows. It was quiet, and I felt very happy to see the tree like this. I sat down on the blue flowered love seat that sat opposite the tree and watched it for what seemed like a long time. I can't describe how beautiful I remember it. Surely time embellishes that image, but that's even better. After a bit, curiosity got a hold of me and I prowled around the tree looking for gifts bearing my name. Several appeared, much to the relief of my doubting mind. All were wrapped up in paper, and I didn' t dare open them before my parents got up. After my initial inspection of the gifts under the tree, I examined the tree itself, and noticed, halfway up, a furry racoon puppet. I knew at once that was mine. Pam didn't have too much of an interest in animals, and I was a downright animal freak. I pulled the racoon off the tree and noticed it had a hole in the end to put your hand in and control its movements. I played with it only briefly, not wanting to disturb the unwritten law of Christmas morning, and put it back on the tree just as I'd found it. It was very cold in the apartment, and I recall that even in my excitement I was conscious of the chill. Soon I went back to the warmth of my bed, but who could sleep after all that stimulus? I grabbed the book I had checked out from the library called Animals A to Z.  It was a large book with great drawings and descriptions of animals (living up to its name) from A to Z. So as not to disturb Pam, who was still snoozing, I grabbed a flashlight and formed a tent on my bed with the sheets. Under this tent I read the book all morning until 6:30 or 7:00 when it was generally agreed it was OK to wake the parents to supervise the gift-opening, paper-thrashing ceremony.
     Mom and Dad somehow managed to buy us Christmas presents and attribute them to Santa Claus, and everyone was happy. Interestingly enough, I don't remember a bit about the actual opening of the gifts. I only remember that first sight of that tree in the early hours of the morning, and the agony of waiting for daylight. Why that stands out I still don't know.