It was the winter of 1985-86 and man was there snow. Everywhere. It came early and in abundance. (We have a photo from late winter of us going to my grandparent’s farm near Blaine Lake and the snow was six feet high on both sides of the road.)
My dad was an independent construction contractor whose livelihood depended upon the weather being good. So when the weather was bad he didn’t get much work. As you can imagine, with all that snow it was difficult for my dad to find work, so any money that came in went to pay the bills and keep us fed. In fact it was only because of the generosity of a friend of Dad’s that we had any money at all for Christmas gifts, and, if I remember correctly, he was given that money on Christmas Eve. Well, with only a few hours to shop and a few dollars to spend, dad went searching for presents, and the one thing his two boys really wanted was a battery operated monster truck (Not the remote control kind, just the kind where you turn it on and let it go). Dad came home that evening with presents under his arm, and as was our Christmas tradition, we celebrated that evening by eating a nice meal, reading the Christmas story, and opening presents (I think we always did it on Christmas Eve because my parents wanted to sleep in on Christmas Day – that’s my theory anyway). Our evening was simple but nice until it came time to open our presents. I can’t really remember what else we were given, but I do remember one gift. The worst Christmas gift ever. Our parents handed my brother and I one box each and we both tore into them. Inside was a battery operated car that turned around when it ran into the wall. It was perfect for 4 and 5 year old boys… except we weren’t 4 and 5. We were 12 and 13, and this was not what we had hoped for. I was quiet and tried to be polite but my brother couldn’t contain himself. He ran to his bedroom crying all the way. Everything fell apart at that point… my mom got upset with my dad, I tried out the car, my brother was mad and hurt and still crying, and my dad felt heartbroken for buying a gift so unwanted.
Yeah, that was a tough year…but we made it through and have seen many a wonderful Christmas since then (including this one).
Every year now we think back to “The Christmas from Hell” and “The Worst Christmas Gift Ever” and we all make a few jokes and laugh. But I know that deep down it still hurts my dad a little, and you know what… it still hurts me a little too. It helps us to remember how good we have it now. Truly we are blessed.
I love you dad.
