This is post #10 in the GeneaBloggers Advent Calendar of Christmas Memories.
My Christmas morning “Red Rider BB Gun Moment” came when I was 16 years old. I had always wanted a TV of my own, but I never even bothered to ask — I could list the litany of reasons this was a bad idea on my own, without prompting them from my mom.
So, when I saw the TV box with a bow on top nestled under the Christmas tree that year, I just figured it was for my mom’s room or for her office. As my sister and I took turns reaching under the tree for gifts to unwrap, I didn’t give that one a second glance. No way that one was for me.
After the last of my gifts had been unwrapped, I remember being pretty satisfied with that year’s haul. But I don’t recall what else I got that year because of what transpired next. My mom pointed in the direction of the TV box and said, “Aren’t you going to open that one?”
“WHAT? For me? Are you serious?” was all I could say. Many “thank yous” and “I don’t believe its” then followed. It dawned on me a short time later that I knew exactly when my mom had gone to buy the TV — two days after I had picked her up from the hospital following surgery on a herniated disc, I chastised her for trying to go Christmas shopping with a friend of hers. In one of those role-reversal moments, I scolded her for trying to overdo it as she hobbled out the door. I even offered to go pick up whatever it was she was going to buy — of course, she turned down that offer.
The TV was a 13-inch — puny by today’s standards. But I spent many a night watching bad made-for-TV movies on it (we didn’t have cable). It then saw me through college, serving me and my college roomies well for our movie marathons. I still have it, though now it requires a special converter box to hook it up to a DVD player. I almost gave it away when I moved earlier this year, but there were no takers. I’m glad I hung onto it after all.