CHRISTMAS GREED

    All kids love Christmas. Lights, music, presents under the tree. Santa always showed up at our house, and always ate the cookies set out for him. I never could figure out, though, why Santa gave Dave Beck bigger and better gifts than the rest of us Ash Avenue boys. I knew for a fact he wasn't any nicer.

    Now that I was in Junior High it was time for me to start buying some of my own clothes. Not that the combat boots Mom had gotten on sale were that bad. I told my mocking friends I was a trendsetter! With five siblings, I knew my parents couldn't afford many of the fashionable clothes my pals were wearing. You know, like Gant shirts with the small loop atop the back pleat.

    I had a paper route and saved up for a clothes buying binge. It was Christmas time and everyone was catching the spirit. Clark's clothing store had carolers and hot chestnuts.

Hoover's and Levin's lured us in with Elsha and other spicy colognes, guaranteed to turn pretty heads. "Would you like that wrapped?" Why not! The fancy Christmas paper made each purchase look expensive. After all, the wrapping was free!

    I didn't buy that many clothes, but having each item wrapped separately made quite an attractive stack. At first I put no tags on them. I just let them sparkle like the silver icicles hanging on the tree. My brothers and sisters insisted on knowing whose presents were piled so high next to the tree. Being continually pestered I finally relented and tagged them, "TO FRANCIS FROM SKOSH." "What? All those presents are to you from your stupid dog?" they screamed. "I can't help it. Skosh loves me!" I replied with a smirk.

    I wasn't greedy. I would have presents for them as well. They just weren't out yet. I thought my presents were so beautifully wrapped that they would add to the Christmas feeling! It was a Christmas never to be forgotten. To this day, my brothers and sisters share this holiday memory with joking contempt.

  

YOU'LL SHOOT YOUR EYE OUT or DAISY RED RIDER CHRISTMAS

 

        The movie "A Christmas Story" has always had a special place in my heart. Every boy growing

The movie, "A Christmas Story"- it's a family classic.

up can hardly wait for his first BB gun. It’s a rite of passage. But, we all faced the same obstacle. Mothers. “You’ll shoot your eye out!” I had just turned ten, and my father had finally prevailed.

        Very early Christmas morning, before any of the rest of the family was awake, I left my bedroom in stealth mode. I crept quietly up the basement steps, through the kitchen and into the living room to examine what booty Santa had left. No wrapped presents at our house. There in the soft glow of the Christmas lights on my assigned chair, right next to the stuffed stocking, lay a long thin box. Yes! It could only be one thing. Printed on the side was a magnificent picture of a Daisy Red Rider Lever-action BB gun. It had finally happened. I could hardly contain my joy. I'd be the envy of every kid in the neighborhood.

Ralphie trying out his new Daisy Red Rider.

       Hefting the box I made a shocking discovery. It was empty. What the heck! Was this some kind of sick joke? I frantically searched the room, in the closets, behind the curtains and under the couch, but no BB gun. With lingering questions and fading hope I headed back to bed.

        By sunrise the house was alive with the sounds of happy kids and parents enjoying the surprises of Christmas morning. “How do you like the present Santa brought you?” questioned Dad. “Oh, you mean the empty box?” I groaned. “Oh, it’s real alright and it's magnificent,” he chuckled. Dad left the room and returned with the real thing, the Daisy Red Rider. Together we read the instructions and danger warnings. Then, after swearing blood oaths, “cross you heart and hope to die,” and any other promises my parents could swear me to, the Daisy Red Rider was finally really mine.

Official Daisy Red Rider Lever-action BB gun

        The wood stock felt comfortable in my arms as I cradled it, lined up a shot and gently pulled the trigger. Wow! This is a beauty, I thought. Shooting at targets and stationary tin cans was fun, however I soon lost interest. After all, I was born to be a Backwoods Hunter, killer of wild animals just like my hero, Davy Crockett.

 

        Roaming the nearby hills, tracking down lizards and squirrels proved disappointing. They wouldn't sit still long enough to get off a good shot. It was in Stewart Grow’s orchard that I finally found my wild pray. Birds. They could be spotted flitting through the branches of the fruit trees. If I stalked quietly I might get close enough to squeeze off a winning shot. Sure enough, after several near misses, my BB found its mark. A small bird tumbled from branch to branch, finally coming to rest at the base of a peach tree. Hurrying over to examine my trophy I couldn’t wait. There in the grass lay a small beautiful bird. My shot had hit it, but it was still alive. Wounded mortally, peeping weakly, it was suffering a slow death. What I saw broke my heart. With tears in my eyes, I took careful aim and put the struggling little bird out of its misery. The great Hunter of Wild Beasts had lost all interest in killing.

My 93-year-old dad, R Max Rogers, with his new Daisy Red Rider BB gun.
My mom, Florence, has given in and is trying to be supportive.

        Fifty years later the roles were reversed. Again over the protests of my mom, I bought my 93 year old dad a Daisy Red Rider BB gun for his birthday. He needed it to scare away the neighborhood cats that were using his vegetable grow box as a community outhouse. We brought out the old targets and tin cans, then shot off a few rounds for old times sake. Dad's gone now, but I still have the Daisy Red Rider and a load of great memories.