"Christmas 2023 – Looking Back"
by John Wilder
"I was going to write a story about one of my Christmas experiences, but instead I thought I’d write about more than just one. Since my only boss at this blog is you, dear reader, I thought you wouldn’t mind. So, for this Christmas, I’ll share some of the Christmas memories I have of my family while growing up. Why? Because those Christmas memories are the strongest in the young, but our understanding of Christmas as well as our experience of Christmas changes as we age.
The very first Christmas memory I recall as a child was of sneaking out of my bedroom, late at night on Christmas Eve. As an adopted child, I might have been looking for firearms or an exit so I could exit if these adoptive parents wanted me to do chores or something. Or not. I was four. Long after everyone had gone to bed, filled with excitement, I got up and headed towards the fireplace where I had been told Santa would be dropping off presents. I recall seeing Santa, putting presents in the stockings, his back to me. Or it might have been an alien. I was four, so it was probably just a dream. Or maybe Ma and Pa Wilder put something extra in my eggnog so I “slept well”. That would have been an uncomfortable parent-teacher conference for them, “Hey, he’s thirty and in the fourth grade, but he sleeps well.”
The next year, when I was five, I recall that there were presents under the tree. Of course, I was drawn to them like the Colorado Supreme Court is drawn to crack cocaine. Being five and having the coordination of Joe Biden biking, I stepped right one of the presents that was meant for me. The result? My foot tore right through the wrapping paper, revealing to me what the gift from Uncle McWilder was. It was awesome: a tool belt, complete with real tools including a flashlight, screwdriver, and metal pliers. Immediately, I imagined putting the belt on and helping Pa Wilder fix things, like the sink.
Our sink had never been broken to my knowledge, but if it ever did break, I had a pair of real metal pliers and all the tools a five-year-old could imagine would be necessary to fix a sink. We never did fix a sink, though I believe I did an unsanctioned fieldstrip of an Electrolux™ vacuum cleaner. Note: I still have the pliers.
I don’t recall a particular present from first grade, but I do recall sitting at dinner. Being an idiot, I announced to Ma and Pa Wilder (who I think had stopped drugging my food by now) that there was no Santa. My brother, John Wilder, kicked me savagely under the table. “Ow! Why did you do that???” “You idiot, now they won’t give us presents for our stockings!” I’ve written about second grade before, here: "A Wilder Story, or, The BB Gun, The Black Bear, The Soviets, and Me."
In third grade, we had moved to Wilder Mountain. We were in a very small place while the rest of Stately Wilder Manor was still being constructed. Ma Wilder decided to make wine, which involved really good, thick balloons. My brother John and I decided to play a strange version of volleyball using one of the really thick wine balloons over the small pine tree Ma Wilder had made since we were living in a house the size of Hunter Biden’s sense of morality. Good times.
In fourth grade my brother John Wilder was proven wrong, as my parents really went all out filling our socks. In addition to several G.I. Joes®, my brother and I got wind up cars that, when they hit something, all of their body panels flew off. I had no idea that kind of toy existed. What was best? The surprise.
In fifth grade my parents had said we weren’t going to get any presents. It was part of a deal – they were going to buy some new snowmobiles, and because of the expense, those would be our Christmas presents. To be fair I was fine with that – a snowmobile is just awesome. But, my parents lied, and on Christmas Day we found lots and lots of presents under the tree. What were they? Boardgames, galore. Everything from Mousetrap® to Clue™ to giant checkers.
The present I remember most from sixth grade was one from my brother – he got me the cassette version of Alice Cooper’s album, "Alice Cooper Goes to Hell." An odd Christmas present? Sure. But I’ll never cry.
Seventh grade brought probably one of the most peaceful Christmas Days from my youth. I recall on Christmas Day quietly doing a Star Wars™ jigsaw puzzle. If ever there was a day where there wasn’t a single problem, no strife, nothing but a completely happy time spent with my family growing up, this was the day.
The biggest present I recall for Christmas in my eighth grade year was a Nerf® football, which my brother and I promptly took and threw in the driveway for hours on an unseasonably warm Christmas Day.
As a freshman, my brother and I were out shopping for Christmas presents for Ma and Pa Wilder. One gift I saw was a towel. It wasn’t just any towel, but one that had metal snaps and the Everlast® logo. It looked like boxer’s trunks when you wrapped it around your waist. This was the era of Rocky™, and I told my brother, “Man, that’s cool.” He said, “Yes, it is. I like it, and I’m buying it, for me.” I was only slightly disappointed, since he had the money, and I didn’t. Imagine my surprise on Christmas morning when I unwrapped his present to me and found . . . the towel.
When I was a sophomore, all the varsity wrestlers shaved our heads. Why? I have no idea. We were in high school. Ma Wilder took great amusement in this, and, for Christmas, she made me a knit hat in my high school colors. The hat was ludicrously long, and perfect in every way.
My junior year was the last year that my brother was with us before he got married, so, in a sense, it was the last, close family Christmas. Pa Wilder could see the nerd in me, and my present that year was an HP-15C programmable calculator that used reverse Polish notation (RPN). Back then, HP™ had no equal.
My senior year, I recall that Pa Wilder gave me a metal puzzle – one that he had given all of his friends that year. Made of brass, it wasn’t a hard puzzle, but I still have it, a memory of the last Christmas before college.
Going through this, it’s interesting (to me, at least) to see the changes over time as I moved from greedy excitement to looking for meaning and peace. This year? Not sure I’m getting a present at all, and I’m certain I don’t need one. I’m also not sure if there’s going to be a Monday post, I’ll give myself permission to skip it if we’re having a good time here at Stately Wilder Manor.
I hope your Christmas is a wonderful one, and brings you peace and meaning as well."
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