Christmas Monologue 1

Christmas is the Season of Giving. Fortunately, at our church we have many ladies who are Gifted Givers – natural talents in tissue-rumpling, bow-tying and matching special something to special someone. Just take a look at the Secret Sisters flower cart. However, Christmas can be a challenge for Special Needs Givers like me. When it comes to giving, I have two problems– (1) I hate shopping; and (2) I have no Taste. It’s a lose-lose –by the time I find you that “perfect gift,” we’re both gonna be unhappy.

I like practical gifts. If it were up to me, the boys would wake up Christmas morning, rush to the tree, and unwrap a new backpack. Maybe even a new lunch box! AND in their stocking? A bar of soap and a coupon for a hair cut. On the other hand, my husband John thinks it’s not Christmas unless he can make the kids’ eyes “POP.” (Translation: he’s hidden the receipt so my eyes don’t pop.) The boys are lucky that Santa Claus is really their step-dad, and not their mom.

My Gift disability probably stems from my childhood. Dad was a Louisiana preacher. With four kids (me and my three younger brothers), we had no money for fancy Christmases. Nonetheless, my mother – who definitely has Taste – made the best of it. Every year, she took our beat-up, artificial Christmas tree, and turned it into a public works project.

First, the lights. For you younger folks, this was before pre-lit Christmas trees, and before lights were strung in parallel circuit. This meant we had to untangle the lights from last year, plug them in, and test every single bulb to find out which one was breaking the circuit.

Then, the fake snow. This was the heyday of hairspray and flurocarbons, where stores still sold snow in a can. We had our own little hole in the ozone, right above our house. Come on down, Santa!

Finally, Mom would let us kids hang the ornaments, which she immediately re-positioned in an even 360 degree distribution. As the finishing touch, she draped each branch with tinsel icicle strands.

The problem of Presents to go Under the Tree was left to my father – who, like me, definitely lacks Taste. Being a fundamentalist preacher, dad was something of a wheeler-dealer. On Christmas Eve, he would go to K-Mart and look for “unpublished sales.” One fateful year, my father saw opportunity in a pile of Zoid fragments.

You probably already know, Zoids is short for Zoic Androids, the metal-based life forms from the Planet Zi. Back in 1983, they were mildly (but not wildly) popular toys. My father scooped up the pile of Zoids – damaged packaging and all – and pressed the store manager into a bulk deal.

That year, there was an unprecedented number of presents under the tree. We were very excited. My brother Wells opened the first present – it’s a Zoid! But, some of the parts seemed to be missing. Dad said not to worry and passed my brother Hampton a present. Another Zoid! My brother John got -- a Zoid too!

I wasn’t worried, at least not at first. What parent would give their 12-year-old daughter broken Zoids for Christmas? Apparently, my father.

But don’t feel sorry for me – feel sorry for dad. Over the past 25 years, my brothers and I have gotten a lot of guilt trip mileage out of that Zoid Christmas. Long-term, it wasn’t such a bad gift after all.

Which brings me to my Christmas tip for all you Special Needs Gifters: eBay has some great deals on Zoids. Apparently now they’re a collector’s item.

Merry Christmas and God Bless!

L.T.L.