The Crdl. The Must-Have Christmas Gift of 1988. .. or so I was told.
When I was fifteen years old, Christmas as I knew it came to an end. With it, came the end of my childhood and the beginning of a new, grown-up experience of what makes the Christmas season special.
Up until that fateful year, the kids in our family—the three
Saliba cousins, Nabih, William, and Yvette, the pair of Thomson cousins Nicole
and Landon, and my brother, sister and me—received a mountain of presents each
Christmas. Every member of our immediate and extended family bought presents
for everyone else and the result was a cornucopia, a jackpot of gifts heaped in
a gratuitous mound that spread from underneath the tree half-way across the
living room.
This particular year, for various grown-up reasons that the
decision was made that it was time to dial down the gift giving. I was always under the impression that
grandma, the family’s fearsome Matriarch had decided that the holiday excess
had become absurd, and that it was time we had a more reasonable spread beneath
the tree. In any case, for the first
time we drew names, and the word went forth:
This year there would only be one Christmas gift per person.
It seemed like heresy, this idea that we would come away
with exactly one present for the entire Christmas (though in truth, I think most
of the families exchanged a few more privately.
I know we did. I received the
very nice coffee table book A Day in the
Life of America, something I’d wanted for quite some time). But the decision had been made and no allowance
was made for appeal.
That year’s Christmas was unusual in a number of other
ways. First of all, we traveled for the
holiday. Traditionally the Salibas came
to us, in Florida, where the rest of the Thomson clan lived. They escaped the frigid Michigan winter for a
little bit, and we all went to Disney World and had a grand time. But this year we all made the trek north to
Berrien Springs. We kids were excited by
the road trip and the chance to have an actual white Christmas for a change.
Another difference was that we opened presents in the
afternoon, rather than in the morning, which meant an especially agonizing wait
for the kids. The reason for the delay
was that my Uncle Sy and Aunt Patsy were returning from a trip to southeast Asia
Christmas morning. I remember their
arrival late that morning and assuming that surely the first thing on their
agenda would be to tackle our meager collection under the tree. Instead they wanted to shower and
change. Then they wanted to eat. Then there were interminable stories of their
trip and home video to go along with the stories. The afternoon seemed to drag on forever! How could they be so cavalier about something
so important as presents? How could they
bear to wait so long.
Had I known what was waiting for me under that tree I might
have relaxed and enjoyed the afternoon a little more.
Ever since we’d arrived in Michigan, there’d been a running
joke among the family. Someone would pose a question, with exaggerated gravity: “What do you want for Christmas?” The equally solemn response was: “More than
anything in the whole world, I want a crdl.”
This would be followed by gales of laughter. The crdl (prounounced “criddle”) was the
object of much professed longing and the subject of much hilarity among my
family. I couldn’t figure out what this
crdl was or why it was so desirable (and so funny). After a while I began to pretend that I had
figured out what a crdl was, and that I also wanted one more than anything, and
this for some reason produced even more mirth among my family members. Still I felt that this was a family inside
joke that I’d somehow been left out of.
Until that Christmas afternoon anyway. When at last we gathered around the Christmas
tree, and each of us received our gift, I peeled back the wrapping paper to
discover that my cousin William had given me. . . . a crdl. The fabled crdl was a large magnet encased in
a black plastic platform. The platform
contained a mound of shiny metal chips which could be shaped into various
abstract sculptures. You could even
brush all the chips off the platform and onto the floor or-- even a table!--
and then use the platform to magically and magnetically swoop all the pieces
back up. It could serve suitably as a
unique paperweight or desk ornament—just the sort of thing a business executive
or sales rep might fiddle with while talking on the phone. In other words, the crdl was pretty much
boring and useless, particularly for a fifteen year old boy.
I did my best to hide my disappointment (which was
particularly crushing since this was my only present for the day), and gamely
had a laugh at my own expense. I suppose
it could have been worse, I told myself.
I could have gotten the automatic phone dialer my cousin Nabih received
(though really even that was probably more useful than the crdl).
For years afterwards the Crdl Christmas served as a holiday
low-light for me, on record as one of the worst Christmases ever. But recently as I prepared to tell the tale
of the Crdl Christmas for the chidlren’s story at church, I came to realize
that perhaps that Christmas was more significant than I’d realized. The Christmas of the Crdl was the year that I
grew up—it was the dividing point between when Christmas had been all about the
presents and when Christmas became all about the people. Before the Crdl Christmas, presents had been
what I anticapted most at Christmastime.
After the Crdl Christmas,
spending time with people I love came to be what I looked forward to most.
I’ve come to understand that if the Crdl Christmas was the
worst one on record then I’m extraordinarily blessed. Each
Christmas that I’ve been able to spend in good health, with all my needs and
many of my wants provided for, that I’ve
been able to gather with people I love, every holiday that I’ve been able to
look upon with gratitude for the grace of God, is indeed among the most
wonderful times of the year. Each year
that I have the luxury of disappointment over a gift that somewhat missed the
mark, I have reason to rejoice.
I spent Christmas 2011 with the in-laws, and then on
Monday, December 26, Babs, the Feller and I flew out to Oregon to spend a
week with Carol Paez and her family.
Already, I’ve had a great week of vacation spending special time with my
son. I find I barely think at all about
what I’ll get for Christmas this year. The real gift is in those gathered
around the tree, not in what’s underneath it.
Gathered around the tree this Christmas. With Mom Leen at the Leens, Sunday, December 25, 2011
These two are all the Christmas presents I need! (Babs and the Feller making Christmas cookies at home. December 20, 2011)
The grandest sight to see
Was something lovely
Wrapped beneath our tree.
Well Heaven surely knows
That packages and bows
Can never heal
A hurting human soul
No more lives torn apart
That wars would never start
And time would heal all hearts
And everyone would have a friend
And right would always win
And love would never end
This is my grown up Christmas list
--“Grown
Up Christmas List”, as sung by Amy Grant
PostScript:
The Samsung Galaxy SII
1 comment:
In the past several years, I've actually come to loathe the presents part of Christmas because it just seems so greedy and selfish. It's definitely all about the people for me (and getting a break from school!!).
ps. your PS made me chuckle!! You've joined the android world, eh? I just joined the iPhone world last month! I resisted for so long, but I'm really enjoying it now.
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