Toy Time

A few weeks before Christmas, the most important thing in the world would arrive—the Sears catalog, or the Big Book from Toys R Us. I don't know about you, but this was the day I looked forward to the most in the '80s. My sister and I would spend hours going over every page. The way it worked for us is we circled what we wanted and then put your letter next to it. Fortunately, my sister and I had very different toy needs. I was a true tomboy, and she had a severe Barbie obsession. This made things easy, and there was very little overlap in our lettering. After the catalog was sufficiently tagged, it was on to the list. The list was meant to prioritize the gifts and pare down the absolute gluttony of the catalogs. My list was always from most important dwindling to least, and it was a good mix of price ranges. My sister, however, would put a 1965 Ford Mustang on her list. AS long as I can remember, she would sneak it in. I really don't know why they never got her a model of it or a Hot Wheels, but she never got that Mustang. Honestly, I don't even know why she put it on there; she doesn't like muscle cars. She does have a 1955 Olds Rocket 88 that she, my dad, and I attempted to restore. That's a story for another day. Anyway, my sister's list would just be absolute chaos. No organization, no prioritizing, just words. Now let's skip to Christmas Eve. We were each allowed to open 1 gift. Typically, it was something small from the stocking. It was usually something we needed, such as toiletries and the like. I will save my Christmas Eve trauma story for actual Christmas, stay tuned, it is something. Christmas Day had a few rules. You have to wait to wake the parents until 6 am. My father would fuck around for what seemed like hours before he grabbed the trash bag and sat down. Luckily, we didn't have to be civilized and open one at a time or in any order. It was a free-for-all. One side of the tree had my gifts wrapped in a specific paper, the other side had a different paper and was hers. My father always got us 1 "gift" that he wrapped. It was always something that was needed. One year, it was a toilet seat, another was a jack for the car. It was always wrapped in the appropriate paper and was wrapped to be obvious as to what was there. This was one of the funniest traditions. Who knew what it might be until you spotted it under the tree. After the gifts were opened and toy parts strewn about, the rest of the day was spent playing with whatever toys and games. My sister's best friend lived across the street and basically lived with us and would come over to share in the fun. Now I do not have children, so I never got to see the joy through another generation. I saw the aftermath of my sister's children but never the moment of truth. I am sure it is almost as cool seeing that on your child as it was to feel it yourself. Although it could never be as cool as a Mongoose BMX bike!

-Heather