I’ve been waiting months to blog this. Months!! Now that it’s finally December 25, 2005, I’d like to take you all back, back, to Christmastime in December, 1982. My first Christmas experience, 4 months after my arrival to the United States.

I was 6 years old, in first grade in a new country, new school, with new customs and a new language that I did not understand. I was, of course, an easy target for teasing, cruelty, theft, basically being taken advantage of. I don’t care what you child-lovers say, kids are damn mean. In this first grade class, we were about to do my first gift exchange. Each child had brought in a wrapped gift as according to instructions given to the parents. All the gifts were randomly tagged with a number, and a corresponding number was put in a hat. We were sitting Indian-style on the floor in front of the classroom, and each child by turn walked up to the hat, drew a number by lot, and the teacher handed that kid the present marked with that same number. I had drawn a 6, and a rather large box was handed to me. I sat down with my wrapped present. The distribution continued until one girl, who drew a 9, was given a small gift, one that fit in the palm of her little hand. She had a fit and insisted that I was given her gift, and that the 6 and/or 9 was reversed in error. Because I was not one to protest, the teacher appeased the other girl and apologetically took my large box and gave it to her, while handing me the smaller box in exchange. I remember being confused, too confused to feel violated. We were then given permission as a class to open our presents. My little gift turned out to be an adorable little plastic Christmas-tree shaped box in which the lid of the box can be removed to become a Christmas tree pin; a pair of tiny Christmas tree earrings were pierced through the lid/pin to be worn as earrings or decoration for the tree pin; inside the box was a matching Christmas tree necklace. The girl who had my original present tore open the wrapping to uncover…a box of AlphaBits cereal.

Thus went my first experience with the meaning of Christmas, the American me-generation spirit, the squeaky-wheel-gets-the-grease concept, the be-careful-what-you-wish-for cliche, and karma. I’m sure I don’t need to elaborate on the moral of this story.

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Holidays, everyone!