At Christmas, anticipation is one of the greatest gifts
- Brett Hiner: A Work in Progress
- December 14, 2020
- 890
Upon running into a friend of mine on a quick grocery run a few days back, I could not help but notice her empty grocery cart and worn look of stress across her angered brow. While it is not at all uncommon to wear this particular look at this particular store, it was only 7:45 a.m., so I had to ask what the issue could possibly be, so early, on this fine wintry morning.
“Christmas shopping,” she told me, and along with her inability to locate a much-desired Lego set, her youngest has asked for “Squeakee: The Balloon Dog,” which is apparently the toy of choice this holiday season, only to be found on the hot-Christmas-toy-dark-web where prices soar upward of 200% of the SRP. After offering a few words of encouragement, it was clear she had an agenda that did not involve being stopped by me. I headed off on my own search, made all the more miserable upon discovering the current cost of eggnog ($6 for a half gallon).
Like many, I have found myself in a similar situation as this caring mother, wanting nothing more than to make Christmas wishes and dreams come true for my children.
A few years back this gift was the weird Hatchimal toy, with the odd premise that if you rub the egg with enough love, it will eventually hatch an animal that upon doing so reminded me of that horrific gremlin with the white mohawk from the movie “Gremlins.” Instead of sugar plum fairies, I am visited by this monstrosity in my dreams. I think we sold it for $1 at a garage sale a summer or two ago.
Before that the gift was Tickle-Me Elmo for our oldest, for which I had to take on a second mortgage to secure. With this one I was wise enough to keep the box in mint condition, so eventually I can go onto e-Bay and sell it for, hopefully, enough dough to cover the cost of her first semester textbooks in college.
Personally, the heralded gift of my youth was Kenner’s Ewok Village, released in sync with “Return of the Jedi” in 1983. In those days Star Wars action figures and playsets were all the rage, and my mom exhausted all possibilities in trying to find one. Pre-internet, this meant driving to retail stores that no longer exist (KB Toys, Harlow’s, Hill’s and Woolworth come to mind), none of which were in our hometown, or making endless phone calls to catalogue companies like Service Merchandise or Montgomery Ward.
While it can certainly become overwhelming, the quest for the perfect Christmas gift is not unique to a generation; it is born out of the love and a wish to see smiling faces on the most glorious of mornings. According to history.com, the desired gifts bringing those smiles in the 1920s and ‘30s were the Yo-Yo and/or a Shirley Temple doll. The Slinky dominated the 1940s until inventor George Lerner came along with his Mr. Potato Head toy in the 1950s.
GI Joe, Star Wars and Cabbage Patch Kids round out latter decades of the 1900s, ending with the “Atari” gaming system and its subsequent followers/upgrades in the gaming world that, if sales remain steady, Nasdaq predicts will make $13.4 billion in sales this holiday season alone. That is a long way from Cincinnati’s own Albert Carter, who, always enthralled with his mom’s mysticism and clairvoyancy, had the idea for the “Syco-Seer,” a liquid-filled tube divided in the center with a clear window on each end that, when turned up/down, revealed worded dice. This device would become the Magic 8-Ball.
A desired toy is, of course, the premise of “A Christmas Story,” and one of the many beauties of the movie is not that Ralphie so desperately wants an “official Red Ryder, carbine action, two-hundred shot range model air rifle” — it could have been any toy really — but rather, the collective memory we all have of that favorite/desired gift. In Ralphie’s story the movie brings that childhood hope and anticipation we have all felt — awaiting the unwrapping of that present under the tree — so gloriously back to life.
But somewhere along the line, our perspective on the meaning behind that toy changes, that it does become more about the story leading to unwrapping the gift than actually receiving it, just as it did for Ralphie.
If memories serve me, that Ewok Village showed up closer to my birthday in May, not Christmas morning, but was still played with to death, regardless of when it was received. Parts of it still sit on a shelf in our basement, more as a reminder of a past Christmas than a toy with which to be played.
Whenever my children ask what was your favorite toy growing up, the story behind how I received the Ewok Village always accompanies my answer. Maybe the real gift for us all is the memories evoked from the love behind the purchasing journey and how those toys ultimately ended up in our youthful hearts and hands, and then passing that love on. That gift is more valuable than even the price of eggnog.
Brett Hiner can be emailed at workinprogressWWN@gmail.com.