Christmas Memories

on this friday before Christmas, as i gaze out at the streets of a desolate Washington, D.C., i'd like to reflect on some of my favorite holiday memories.

1. the Fraggle Rock drumset - this story actually took place before Christmas. i was about 7 years old and, the year before, had unfortunately discovered there was no Santa Claus when i caught my mother placing gifts under the tree in the wee hours of Christmas morning. all those years, it was her and my dad eating those cookies i toiled so hard to make on Christmas Eve. while i placed them with care on the living room table, she already knew she'd have to eat them later. what a poor, naive soul, she must have been thinking . . . but i digress.

anyway, i went searching for gifts very early in December because i knew she was the one stocking them in the house. after tearing apart the basement laundry room, i ventured into the crawl space beneath the stairs and, behold, i found a large box. i guess my parents thought they'd effectively duped me because the box was barely covered. i crawled towards it and fearlessly pulled it back into the basement. i don't know where my parents were, but i managed enough time to open the box and inspect its contents. sensing no danger, i removed the parts of the drumset from the box and attempted to assemble it.

the only problem was i didn't have any tools.

when my mom got to the basement, she found a shoddy contraption before her eyes. working with tiny hands and very little time, i erected the bass drum and assembled half of the foot pedal. there was no stool and i had placed the snare and toms neatly on the floor.

i don't remember much of what happened after that.

2. my grandmother's heartwarming gift - i'm reminded of this because i talked to my grandmother the other night and she mentioned buying my nephew a remote controlled car when he last visited. i wondered if it was similar to the one she bought for me as a Christmas present when i was 8.

in the late 80s, remote controlled cars were the hottest gifts any boy could wish for. Tyco had cornered the market, releasing a series of racers that would tear up faux Baja terrain and jump ramps with ease. during the days leading up to Christmas, my friends and i would discuss during class what kind of car we were getting and where we were going to race them on Christmas morning. oh, there was no "if". we all knew we getting remote controlled cars.

during the annual Christmas morning brunch, my grandmother came to the door with gifts in tow. before she got a chance to reach the living room table, i was removing my gift from her arm. when i opened it, however, something didn't quite look right. instead of a cool, sleek Tyco racer, she'd gotten me a large, buggy-like car. it weight about 78 lbs. and was a deep red with weird decals all over its body. perhaps most disappointing, however, was the fact that it wasn't able to make turns. that's right, the car had only a forward and backward motion built into the controls.

i was beyond hurt; but, you know, with my mom breathing over my shoulder, telling me to thank my grandmother, what the fuck could i do? i took the car to the basement and gave it a few test runs. maybe it wasn't as bad as it seemed. maybe it was extremely fast. maybe there were turning functions on, i don't know, the bottom of the remote. nothing. not only was the car as slow as a lanky Yugoslavian basketball player, but the motor sounded like a vacuum cleaner when i cranked it at full speed. i took it outside to let it taste the open road, but that joy was short-lived considering that i had to chase it down to turn it around every few seconds.

there were no races with my friends that Christmas morning. when they showed off their flashy Tyco cars later that day, i stood envyingly on the side, lying about not getting any sort of car for Christmas.

3. the basketball hoop nightmare - a year after the remote controlled car embarrassment, i hoped to outdo my friends by getting an exclusive gift. that wish was granted when, on Chistmas morning, i ran into the basement to see my dad putting the final screw in my new basketball hoop. the hoop was a free-standing replica of a regulation one, complete with a steel rim, a solid wooden backboard, and fresh orange paint. sure, i wasn't able to dribble the mini ball on the basement carpet, but our raised fireplace mantle provided an extra foot of height, duplicating that "in-game" feel.

for all of Christmas day, i played with my new hoop. i took shots close-up, from long range, and even perfected spinning finger rolls. by the late afternoon, i had changed into a short set and put on a headband and wanted to give myself the ultimate challenge by trying to dunk the ball. because of the mantle, i'd have to be careful not to fall on the hard stone surface. i got a running start, leaped, and flushed the ball. feeling a great sense of accomplishment, i ran to the basement window and started hyping up the imaginary crowd. little did i know, however, that my dreams were crashing behind me. i turned around to grab the mini ball and saw my brand new court tumbling off the mantle. i screamed like a schoolgirl as the backboard hit the floor and split neartly in two. i remember staring at the wood fragments, slack-jawed, as the hoop lay face down, void of life.

i wept for the rest of the day. i would later go on to play games on the handicapped court, wondering what could have been.


there are more memories, of course, like the horrible sweater a Batman video, the fleece-lined nylon pants, and the malfunctioning Playstation. none of these, however, have stuck with me like the stories i mentioned above. most importantly, through all the disappointments and disasters, i remained a grateful child. after all, it is the thought that counts.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

i saw a homeless man on the sidewalk in my walk to the office this morning. although the main street to my building is seldom absent of these types, never had i seen one in such a poor condition. the man was lying on the front step of the post office, wrapped in a single layer of clothing, writhing. every few seconds, he'd jerk his body, causing the expression on his face to manifest more pain. perhaps the most eerie, however, were his eyes, which appeared heavily swollen and a deep hue of red. considering the morning temperature of about 35 degrees, the man appeared close to death.

as frightening as the sight was, i trodded along like every other person, not even pausing to offer help. how did i become so callous? why didn't the masses offer any assistance? is it a presupposition of authority's turning a blind eye to the lesser privileged?

i've written about the homeless in this blog. on a daily basis, i encounter so many who delight pedestrians with their humor and charm. in the same breath, however, i eschew their requests for spare change and meals. i work hard for my money, i think. why give it to someone who'd expect to receive more every day? it's the elitist side of me to which subscribe simply because society deems it acceptable.

on this cold morning, a mere five days from Christmas, i'm forced to re-evaluate my stance as a humanitarian -- as a servant of the community. a true philanthropist would have come to the assistance of the man i saw this morning. i true advocate for poor and desolate champions causes that are outside the scope of formalized, short-term activities. in ignoring a man who could have potentially been taking his last breaths, i've come to realize i have yet more cleansing to do within my heart.

the lampshade as a party necessity

the holiday season is upon us, using its tiny hands to tug at our pockets and purses. malls are overcrowded, debt is growing, and neighbors are vying for for the crown of largest, most excessively decorated Christmas tree. most importantly, however, people will be showing their holiday spirit by attending a slew of parties. whether you're going to be yucking it up with upper management at the office Christmas gathering, or getting drunk and passing out at your girlfriend's friend's apartment, please make sure you include a lampshade in your romps.

the lampshade was once considered a party staple. your music didn't quite thump, and your booze didn't taste that good until one of your patrons stumbled down a staircase with a lampshade adorning his crown. the first lampshade was worn on April 17, 1911 at an in-home wine tasting in Ithaca, NY. Lady Fenella Lovelace, the hostess, had invited nearly 20 guests to her home to enjoy what she had deemed her annual "ring in the Spring" event. one of the guests was Sebastian Devonshire, who was visiting with a friend from Rhode Island. Sebastian was far from a drinker. in fact, that day would mark the first time he'd consume more than one glass of wine in a sitting.

as the event went deep into the evening, guests made their way into Lovelace's backyard. bubbly and full of cheer, they sprawled out on the lawn furniture and chatted under the orange sky. Sebastian, however, was still indoors, noticeably in discomfort. having downed his fifth glass of wine, he stumbled across Lovelace's living room and bumped his knee on her ottoman. another guest saw Sebastian and offered her help, but he declined, accidently spitting bits of olives down her blouse.

"I'm fine, thank you." he said.

Sebastian then reached for his hankerchief to wipe the corners of his mouth. the movement of his eyes proved to be too much, however, as Sebastian once again began stumbling. this time, he banged his shin on a coffee table, spun around, and fell against a wall. upon impact, a shade from one of Lovelace's ornate lamps became jarred from its base and fell neatly atop Sebastian's head. confused, he shot his arms directly in front of his body and ended up pushing open a door to the backyard. guests lounging on the lawn saw this display -- a meandering, drunk, lampshade-covered man -- and began to cheer wildly. Sebastian ambled around in the lampshade for approximately 34 minutes before he gained the sense to remove it. by then, he had become the life of the gathering and the trailblazer of a movement.

today, party lampshade-wearing is limited to isolated parties at midwestern colleges. oral history on the tradition is equally weak, which has caused many to remove the shades in shame when partygoers ask exactly what they fuck is going on. back in college, i tried to honor Sebastian by wearing a lampshade at a house party. much to my embarrassment, however, not only did i go unnoticed under the dim lights, but i also accidently smacked a woman when i stretched out my arms, screaming, "The party starts NOW!" i was kicked out, of course, and my lampshade tossed into the street, but i think i reached some people. through my follies, they became wiser.

so, during this holiday season, throw caution to the wind and pay homage to Sebastian Devonshire. when you're donning that lampshade at the piano, singing Christmas carols, or swaying to "Auld Lang Syne", champagne in hand, shade over head, remember the man who did it first.