Everyday NhanSense: Each day, I will blog about something that comes to mind. My goal is to practice writing about my hobbies, my interests, my opinions and so forth.
Day 11’s Topic: The holidays.
‘Tis the season for memories. Lots of nostalgic memories at that.
Growing up as the oldest brother of two younger brothers, all I can really recall from Christmas was a lot of “modest” experiences during the holidays. You see, my parents did not make a lot of money by any means.
We were far from dirt-poor, as my brothers and I always had clothes on our backs, a roof over our heads and my parents both worked jobs to put plenty of food on the table so we never starved or anything like that.
However, when it came to those materialistic concepts such as presents during Christmas, my brothers and I were kind of out of luck in that department. Even at a young age, my siblings and I learned to stop asking for stuff around Christmas because we weren’t getting them more than 90 percent of the time.
Well … at least in the traditional sense with the things being wrapped to be placed under a fancy Christmas tree (it would have been a mess to drag a tree into our living room anyway.)
Of course, we were also smart enough to realize that not getting regular gifts did not stem from our parents not loving us. They just could not afford them. Even the slightly well-off kids around our neighborhood would brag about how their parents were getting them the latest video game console or hot toy for that season. It kind of sucked to have those kids rub it in, though it just became a yearly routine and we all grew used to it as my brothers and I grew older.
Nonetheless, my parents always tried their best to do what they could. My dad, bless his heart, at least always got us that one particular “bag” of toys donated from those charity organizations. I can still recall the varied assortment on a year-to-year basis.
Foam footballs, plastic airplanes, one of those plastic basketball hoops you are supposed to put over a wastebasket … Sometimes, we got other things like picture books and even puzzles. In other words, they were the second-rate junk you could find at any ol’ dollar store. But you know what?
It was better than nothing. At least, in a way, it showed our parents cared. They probably would be happier to give their children actual, high-end “gifts” (and I do put the quotation marks for good measure) because it’s what those other parents do when they have extra cash in their bank account.
But my brothers and I lived. We were just snotty brats in our own ways who deep down wanted the cool things like fancy video games and all that jazz, but we were humble enough to accept what we would receive around Christmas time, more or less.
At the very least, I still recall my grandmother and aunts sending us clothes … Ugh, I swear that clothes are like some of the worst gifts you can give a child. I don’t recall ever putting on a shirt my grandma or aunt bought me …
Before I get sidetracked, there has to be a point to this. Oh yeah, it’s just to cherish the memories you make with your family and friends during these times.
Make memories, people. Happy ones at that.
“Get good. Be better.” – Nhan Fiction