Merry Fucking Christmas!

Ah, the holidays.  Nothing brings stress to poor families like the expectation of presents from Santa AND the parents.  Think about it.  Not only are parents expected to buy Christmas presents, but they also have to cover that no-show Santa’s presents, too.  So, as you can imagine, my mom was even more full of anxiety from Thanksgiving to Christmas.  We were rolling coins from the piggy bank to pay rent during a normal month.  Add the extra shopping that comes with Christmas, and living on my mom’s paycheck became impossible.  That is where Raul came in.

            It must have been easy to get someone a credit card on your account back in the 80s because my mom had a few cards with her first name and Raul’s last name. They weren’t married.  In fact, Raul was married to someone else.  I often wonder if his wife also had duplicate cards on his account.  This was before the world was so computerized, so I can see how they could get away with this.  Maybe they could get away with it now, too, if the credit card company thought that Raul was some sort of rogue Mormon or something. 

            I remember one Christmas my mom was super mad at Raul for something, probably for being married or for beating her again.  This guy was a prize.  Did I mention that? Anyway, she was super pissed and took all her fake Mrs. Raul cards shopping.  We went everywhere using those cards.  I remember seeing Raul’s last name when my mom signed the imprinted 1980s credit card receipt.  That was back when they had to actually make an imprint of the card on a three-ply carbon receipt. 

As it got later in the day, and we were heading home, we had time for one last stop – Eckerd Drugs. I believe it is now known as CVS, after some corporate buy-out.  Anyway, we shopped the heck out of that Eckerd Drug.  I remember going up and down those two Christmas aisles and getting all my favorite Christmas candies, especially the liquid-filled chocolate-covered cherries.  Those are still my favorite.  We also got ornaments, lights, tinsel, garland, and a small, white Christmas tree.  That poor thing didn’t last long.

We took the tree home and put it up in our little duplex apartment.  We moved the furniture away from a corner near the window and the air conditioner unit. This was before prelit trees and central air took over the world.  So, my mom and I had to pull the lights from the box ever so carefully.  God forbid you should break a bulb. Then, the whole damn string would not work. After we, well she, I was about 9 at this time, cursed at the tree and the lights for a bit, we plugged them in.  The beautiful multicolor lights made Santa and magic seem real. 

Next, we got out the silver garland.  I have always liked silver better than gold, so I requested silver.  We placed it all around the tree, careful to not cover or disturb the lights.  I helped place the garland in the back of the tree because I could still fit in that tiny corner. I had a half-eaten candy cane hanging out of my mouth like a skinny, minty cigar. 

Next came the ornaments.  Pretty much all ornaments were made of glass back then.  This was before everything was plastic. They were cheap Eckerd Drug ornaments, but they were still shiny and colorful.  Mom and I never had fancy-themed trees.  We just had multicolored everything trees.  It’s good that we bought the little white tree, as this provided a good background for our redgreenpinkpurplebluesilver decorations.

Once we got the ornaments on, my cat, Miss Kitty, started chasing the shiny reflections on the wall.  Miss Kitty was an indoor/outdoor former stray, and she is the reason I HATE when people let their cats go outside, but that is for another story.  Miss Kitty loved the Christmas tree, and especially the tinsel.  The strands were probably like snakes to her.  This was way back in the day before we knew that pet owners should not use tinsel.  I’m sure Miss Kitty pooped her share of silver snaky browness.

I’m not sure what day it was, or what the exact reason was, but for some reason, my mom got really pissed off about Christmas.  It was hard to tell what would set my mom off.  I don’t remember if there were presents under the tree or not.  I don’t remember if it was before or after Christmas.  I just remember mom grabbing the small tree and throwing it on its side while screaming, “MERRY FUCKING CHRISTMAS!” The glass was everywhere and she yelled at me for crying about it. I picked up tiny, colorful shards from the shag carpet.  I was glad that Miss Kitty was outside and would not accidentally be cut by the ornaments.

My mom wasn’t the only one who knew how to fuck up the holiday spirit.  One year, it was planned that I would actually go visit my father on Christmas.  His parents, my always absent from my life grandparents, would be there.  It would give them an opportunity to see me, not that they really cared that much.  When I was born, my mother and father were in the middle of a divorce.  So, my father thought it would be a great idea to tell everyone that I was not his child.  He portrayed my mom as some wild woman who had an affair and got pregnant.  Then, when I started to look JUST LIKE my paternal grandmother, everyone just kind of knew my father was an asshole. That still didn’t make the Petty family really interested in getting to know me as a person. But I’m not bitter or anything. 

So, since I would be going to my father’s house for Christmas, he called my mother and asked her what I wanted for Christmas.  He also asked her what Santa would be bringing for me at my mom’s house.  Then, in his never-ending attempt to screw with my mom, my father went out and bought the same exact presents. He literally duplicated ALL of the presents my mom had already purchased. Of course, my mom and I didn’t realize this until I got to my dad’s and opened them, again, there.  Only I thought Santa got all of the presents for me, and I was super confused as to why he would get me two of everything.