Memory lane

Today's weather: snow up to my knees.

Turns out I was all kinds of strange as a kid. When I was really little they made me wear a patch over one eye, "like a pirate", with a picture of a butterfly or a rainbow as an attempt to make the purple monstrosity that was my eyepatch "cuter". I also had something against brushing my hair or wearing coordinated clothing. I was probably cute in an ugly sort of way. They eventually released me, thankfully before I reached the age when caring what others think about you becomes seemingly more important than what you think of yourself.

When I was ten I had hair down to my waist and big glasses. I was a scrawny kid with skinny legs and a bit too much enthusiasm. I could sing the fifty states song and would, with little prompting, break out into a rendition or a choreographed can-can. As far as I can recall I spent a lot of my summers and as much of my winters as possible outside on the road in front of our house. I could tell by the sound if a car was coming, but hardly anyone ever came up there as we lived towards the end of the road. We'd play soccer in the street, or careen down the hill in our little red wagon. I think I even ran over my friend's foot that way. At birthday parties we'd even play Calvinball, sort of the sports version of Mao from Bill Waterson's Calvin and Hobbes comics, which basically consisted of a make-it-up-as-you-go version of soccer meets golf with balls, sticks, and various sundry props. It eventually degenerates into absolute chaos but is absolutely hilarious.

Christmas this year gave us a chance to review some of our Christmas pasts, in the form of recently digitized videos. 1996 seems like a very long time ago. I almost didn't recognize myself on the tape, and my brother's (then) squeaky voice could have been mistaken for my own. We stood on the road and demonstrated soccer moves for the camera, a particularly poorly placed pass on my part precipitating the partial impact with the camera. We chopped down trees and tried to convince the dog to drag them. We decorated the fourteen foot monstrosity.

The best moment, and the one which had us practically rolling on the floor with laughter (aside from my brother's very sexy dance, a cross between a victory dance and a wet monkey), was our little "concert": Arm in arm, my brother and I stood in our old hallway and sang in chorus, "It's Christmas at ground zero / Now the missiles are on their way / What a crazy fluke, we're gonna get nuked / On this jolly holiday!"

To each their own, I suppose. Merry Christmas / Chanukah / Kwanza / Solstice / winter break / whatever the hell you celebrate.

It's Christmas at ground zero
There's music in the air
The sleigh bells are ringing and the carolers are singing
While the air raid sirens blare

It's Christmas at ground zero
The button has been pressed
The radio just let us know
That this is not a test

Everywhere the atom bombs are dropping
It's the end of all humanity
No more time for last-minute shopping
It's time to face your final destiny

It's Christmas at ground zero
There's panic in the crowd
We can dodge debris while we trim the tree
Underneath the mushroom cloud

You might hear some reindeer on your rooftop
Or Jack Frost on your windowsill
But if someone's climbing down your chimney
You better load your gun and shoot to kill

It's Christmas at ground zero
And if the radiation level's okay
I'll go out with you and see all the new
Mutations on New Year's Day

It's Christmas at ground zero
Just seconds left to go
I'll duck and cover with my Yuletide lover
Underneath the mistletoe

It's Christmas at ground zero
Now the missiles are on their way
What a crazy fluke, we're gonna get nuked
On this jolly holiday

What a crazy fluke, we're gonna get nuked
On this jolly holiday!