MAGGI PICAYUNE

This series seemed to run out of gas because I guess this time of year wasn’t always so eventful or memorable as I’ve grown older. Next year I will just pare it down to the years that didn’t seem dreary. Five years ago is a stretch to be nostalgic.

Twenty-oh-two is only significant for it being my last Christmas-New Year break as a bachelor; little did I know I would be getting married during the Summer of 2003. Since I chose to work during the holiday for the extra money, Somara flew out to Daytona to spend it with her sister.

The only big highlight was getting takeout food, renting some PS2 games and making sure I kept up on my Flyers through my first season of NHL Center Ice. I think we exchanged gifts before she flew out and it’s the last time I remember Somara putting up the tree; Nemo constantly kept pulling it down or getting trapped in it thanks to his damaged paw.

Somara did return in time to celebrate New Year’s which was spent housesitting.

It wasn’t crazy or festive but sometimes relaxing and “dull” are good.

Near the end of 2008, I may be quizzing friends to tell me their stories to write down about Christmases they remembered that were special.

After having two really nice Christmases and New Year’s Eves in a row (1995 & 1996), I stumbled somewhat with 1997. The year had turned sour half way through August while in Las Vegas with PowerComputing and then came Grandpa’s terminal illness. I rapidly moved to Raleigh in the Fall to avoid unemployment for fear of 1997 morphing in 1992 II. Risk aversion became a huge priority when I bought a car because it was the biggest loan I had ever taken out in my life.

By November I realized Raleigh just wasn’t for me. It was Indianapolis with a different accent, more Canadians and winning college franchises. What seemed to be the smarter decision morphed into an expensive, unwise one. I had also taken a part-time job as a projectionist at the nearby movie theater since I underestimated the bite state income tax would take from my “higher” income. When December rolled around, I felt something had to give; the job wasn’t what PSW promised and Raleigh was no Austin, it wasn’t even Milwaukee.

It sounds awful yet it wasn’t completely. After working all day at Nortel, the projectionist gig was a nice change of pace, especially the soap opera involving two assistant managers’ affair. Once the movies were running, I could read a book, write a letter or catch the majority of a film. The opportunity allowed me to complete all my Christmas cards that year. I recall they were quite good too even if they weren’t as clever as 1995’s favorite (ask Helen).

Obviously, I had to work on Christmas Day at the theater but it didn’t bother me. Nortel was closed until January 5th which provided time to rest, run errands or see the big releases as a patron. Being a contractor for PSW, all my accrued vacation got burned up to cover the time anyway, I figured getting in extra hours elsewhere would help pay the bills. It turned out for the best too. My family didn’t get together; we were still grieving over Grandpa and I wanted to be alone to mull over my options in Raleigh while working on the Plan B to return to Austin.

I don’t really dislike 1997 as much as I used to. I look back on it more as a long stretch of working excessively, being too serious and not taking the opportunity to enjoy the free time.

This holiday was off to an ugly start thanks to being canned by Frank and Dave (GDW), but better things came from the experience, they just weren’t immediately noticeable.

I had been living in Bloomington, IL for over a year now and with the sacking, I was pretty much trapped in Central Illinois for the indefinite future. My immediate family was elsewhere (Chicago, Raleigh) which was good, I wasn’t in a festive mood and I probably would’ve rebuffed all their attempts to cheer me up. Grandma and Grandpa had their own snit to stew in since 1988; their continual refusal to travel elsewhere to join my parents.

It wasn’t all gloomy. Steve and Patty Bryant were good to me. They asked me to housesit their cats Copper, Brandy and Lestat which I readily accepted. I couldn’t have a pet in the apartment so any chance to play with the gregarious feline trio was always welcome. I needed the cat companionship too, the Dana mess was still pretty fresh emotionally. My relatively new tradition of going to the movies continued. I went to The Muppets Christmas Carol which was a brief distraction.

The brighter spot was the Silders’ annual New Year’s Eve bash. The holiday took up the whole weekend on the calendar so I was surrounded by my fellow underemployed Marquette friends; Helen worked for a parking-lot company, Paul still covered sports at the Southtown Economist between odd jobs and Phil finished graduate school. I can’t remember if Doug was present. We lounged around, cheered against Notre Dame, ate and drank too much, watched Slapshot, visited the corner bar and had a Nerf war.

I just remember being so relieved when 1992 was over and pondered what I could do to make 1993 better. The year wasn’t all awful, just tumultuous from all the emotional extremes: Mythus, GDW, GenCon, the TSR lawsuit, Dana, Grandma’s cancer operation, having an AOL account, Chicago Comic Con, the Smithereens concert, the Lyle Lovett concert and missing my connecting flight in St. Louis. My beard turns even grayer mentioning all these things. I also use this Christmas as the measuring stick to judge any current situation. If matters aren’t as unpleasant as then, I’m ahead.

When I decided to write a string of stories about past Christmas Breaks (only on years ending in two or seven this time), I hadn’t realized the significance of 1987 until I started thinking about it. Nineteen-eighty-seven was the last one my immediate family and maternal grandparents spent together, ending an 18-year streak. I’m sure if anyone knew this and what the future held, we all probably would’ve stopped taking the routine for granted.

Other than getting to bum around, sleeping late, eating too much and catching up on television, I know I was pretty excited about Brian’s gift; an autographed copy of Emo Philips’ album E=MO2 because I got to meet him earlier that year. I remembered how much Brian liked Emo’s material. Sadly, my memory was flawed. Brian was into the comedian two years ago so the autograph saying “Hey Brian, juxtapose your vowels and be a Brain” went over poorly. I experienced the defeat my grandparents felt years before when they gave me binoculars as a graduation present in 1982; “Oh, wow, you really shouldn’t have.”

Mom and Dad drove from San Diego to attend. They had only moved there in August so they felt they weren’t settled in enough to host. I’m confident Grandpa would hop in his car and go in a heartbeat, he did with Houston and Indianapolis. Grandma had become extremely sedentary in her ways which prevented them from ever going despite better weather.

Overall, it was a mediocre, uneventful time. Gifts were given. Old arguments welled up. Again, everybody was going through the motions which probably explained why my parents never bothered coming out to Bloomington, IL for Christmas any longer. I could be wrong since I don’t recall what everyone did after 1994. I also remember being more pre-occupied in either seeing my current girlfriend Stephanie (unless she disagrees on the title) or trying to find a way to hang with Paul in Chicago for New Year’s Eve.

The upside was twofold for me. Going someplace nicer for Christmas and New Year’s became the more immediate goal; this did happen the following year with San Diego. The uglier, long-term result was set in motion for me too…not being really keen on Christmas and becoming a bigger fan of New Year’s Eve/Day. I don’t think the latter was such a bad development because Christmas is stressful in America, especially around my family. New Year’s is a more sedate, contemplative and reflective holiday, after the drinking, puking and hangovers are tackled.

This Christmas was very memorable because it was a major change in my family’s traditions.

First, we were no longer living in Central Illinois but Houston and we never had spent the holiday break anywhere else. It probably wasn’t feasible to visit my grandparents so they were gracious enough to come south. Had Mom and Dad known they’d stay until Valentine’s Day, I’m sure the invitation wouldn’t have been as open-ended. Still it was awesome to have them present, I really wanted some “continuity” in my life. High school was rough at Strake Jesuit (socially and academically) plus I felt I was missing the “life” I thought I would have at Griffin in Springfield. Sugar Land’s middle school was even harder on Brian, namely the day he had to try out for the basketball team, an alien concept at St. Agnes. I know I was relieved about Christmas remaining a private, family function too. Thanksgiving was a mess. Our parents thought it was wise to spend it with the neighbors. Adults can be pretty dumb, especially when they think their children will mingle, coexist or at least fake it for several hours.

Second, the weather was an odd change. It wasn’t balmy or warm, yet we weren’t freezing, blanketed in snow. I remember Houston in late December was cold, windy, overcast and unpleasant in another way. It certainly didn’t “feel” like Christmas but I quickly overcame this objection when I experienced Spring arriving in February twice (1983 and 1984). Now I just roll my eyes at those who lament the lack of seasonal change.

The final break with the routine was instigated by my mother. She insisted on everyone opening their gifts on Christmas Eve, a practice I continue to strongly dislike. Why?  It means there’s nothing else to do on Christmas Day but eat, watch TV and go to Mass (as a kid, you know there’s always a catch). What harm is there in waiting another evening? I guess Mom decided to use Houston as the excuse to make the shift.

I did pretty well that year too. A couple key D&D hardback rulebooks, Adam Ant’s Friend or Foe, Men at Work’s Business as Usual and a Lego kit from Brian. I’m confident my grandparents gave us cash since they didn’t have time to shop. I have little to no recollection on everyone else because I was pretty self-involved then.

The two-week break from school wasn’t as enjoyable as previous ones. We didn’t live close to any malls, theaters or something entertaining. I attended private school which meant I didn’t know the neighborhood kids neither. Brian wasn’t keen on them anyway. This resulted in us watching copious amounts of MTV and Nickelodeon. My friend Gene came over for a day but I think this only amplified the boredom because he lived in an older, more developed part of Houston. I believe I was actually looking forward to returning to school for the first time, at least high school prepared me on that aspect of college.

One lasting legacy of this Christmas came much later in the new year. My mother took some time off to see Austin with my grandparents. Course, this was the puny, 1983 version. I remembered how much Mom disliked the place which was funny. How? She said it was a dull, sleepy government-college town and I recall there were more choice words over the La Quinta Inn downtown (still there today). Oddly she hated Houston for it being too large and thinks Raleigh is awesome, a sleepy, redneck government-college town.

Nineteen-eighty-two was a bittersweet Christmas but it was my first one as a teenager and the beginning of a trend.

Christmas, New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day makes people nostalgic even though Christmas generally became one of my least favorite holidays; I like giving people gifts, I just dislike the weather and travel associated with it. Anyway, 2007 was the 25th anniversary of my family moving to Houston, an alien world in our minds at first. So I was going to write about that Christmas because it was the one to break the mold (or routine) we’d be in. Then it got me thinking about going back five more years because a co-worker gave me an issue of Starlog #11 circa 1977 with Rick Baker on the cover. I decided to go ahead, pull back another five years to write about it and make it part of a series I’ll call the Six Days of Christmas. I know there’s twelve, I’m just not that old, yet.

Over 30 years ago, Star Wars continued to be all the rage into Christmas but back then, licensed toys just didn’t happen rapidly. Kenner only had four action figures out and they weren’t very good nor easily available. My parents still did pretty well picking out toys Brian and me liked or wanted; namely the Star Wars T-shirts. Mine was the Brothers Hildebrandt poster, Brian had the one of C-3P0 giving Luke directions with the timely ’77 incorporated in the logo. Unfortunately, I’m drawing a blank on the rest of the loot. I’m confident it was appropriate stuff to hold the interests of a nine and seven year-old kid. I know we didn’t receive any of the numerous lightsabre knock-off toys (a flashlight with a colored gel and a plastic tube attached); Dad probably knew we’d be knocking each other senseless with them.

New Year’s Eve was less memorable since it entailed staying up late to watch WGN’s traditional showing of the Marx Brothers’ Duck Soup between interruptions of our grandparents demanding to see Guy Lombardo.

It was a great two-week stretch at Grandma’s house in Bloomington, IL. I know I was excited to integrate all the new toys with the existing ones into my various space operas.