When I started thinking about writing down some of my fondest memories of Christmastime, I had no idea just how many wonderful Christmas memories I actually had. There was just SO much joy. The kind of joy that can only be experienced in the secure environment that a stable home life and loving parents can give to a small child. Do you know how grateful it makes me feel towards the parents who made each of those memories happen? I am overwhelmed and humbled.
As a kid, I was infatuated with dinosaurs. I absolutely loved them. I was one of those annoying kids who could rattle off the name/weight/height/primary diet/hunting technique of every major (and most minor) dinosaur species known to science. A natural (?) offshoot of that was a great love of all things Godzilla. I watched every "Godzilla vs. ______" movie that ever re-ran on a Saturday afternoon and (much to my eldest sister's mortification) could regale you with all the facts of Godzilla's creation, the monsters he's battled and every other completely useless factoid a child might fill their mind with.
I already owned the large Godzilla action figure with the flaming tongue and the shooting fist. We're talkin' 17 inches of pure monster force, here, folks. It was absolutely awesome and my most prized toy.
As a kid, I was infatuated with dinosaurs. I absolutely loved them. I was one of those annoying kids who could rattle off the name/weight/height/primary diet/hunting technique of every major (and most minor) dinosaur species known to science. A natural (?) offshoot of that was a great love of all things Godzilla. I watched every "Godzilla vs. ______" movie that ever re-ran on a Saturday afternoon and (much to my eldest sister's mortification) could regale you with all the facts of Godzilla's creation, the monsters he's battled and every other completely useless factoid a child might fill their mind with.
I already owned the large Godzilla action figure with the flaming tongue and the shooting fist. We're talkin' 17 inches of pure monster force, here, folks. It was absolutely awesome and my most prized toy.
As an aside, I should make it known that we did not have the kind of parents who ran right out and bought us every new and exciting toy that our little hearts desired. It was a big deal to get a toy like that. My Godzilla was a direct result of my having been in the hospital for a hernia operation. I won't tell you how many times I said a little prayer of thanks that God gave me that hernia! (I was like 7yo, alright?)
Anyhoo, back to the story.
The only thing I needed to make my collection complete and my life fulfilled (again, I was like 7yo, OK?) was to own the great and glorious counterpart to Godzilla. The one and only...RODAN. That winged arch-nemesis of Godzilla, with a life-like moving beak and claws that could actually grasp GIJoe size guys and hold them as he flew!! In the Sears&Roebuck catalog, there was the most incredible picture of the Godzilla and Rodan action figures, locked in furious battle.
I HAD to have Rodan. Period.
So on my Christmas list to Santa that year, Rodan was first and foremost. And it was with great excitement that I anticipated/hoped/dreamed that Santa would come through.
The big Christmas Eve party was a huge blowout, as usual. Family and friends arrived and everyone ate and drank and laughed and enjoyed themselves. I remember being very hot all evening long. Hot and feeling a bit light-headed, but telling not a soul, just in case I might be suspected of getting sick. I would NOT be sick on the biggest night of the year! No matter how sick I was!!
Towards the end of the evening, Santa made his appearance and we all had our picture taken with him and Emily sat on his lap and cried. All par for the course. I remember feeling very weird and detached and just really HOT.
Before bed, I finally told Mom about how I was feeling (or perhaps she just guessed it, from my erratic behaviour and flushed cheeks; I don't remember for sure). She felt my head and realized I had a high fever. I was dosed with meds and fell fast asleep with delirious visions of Santa and Rodan floating through my head.
The next morning, Em awoke me with that once a year, earth-shattering statement "Hey. Wake up...it's Christmas!". I was torn between the incredible excitement and anticipation of Christmas morning and the horrible headache/stomachache/fever which threatened to keep me in bed. But the suspense was too much for me, so I drug my sick, fevered, half delirious body out of bed and rounded the corner to see...RODAN. There he was in all his glory. Giant wings spread, fierce beak parted. He was magnificent. Breathtaking. It was all my feverish little psyche could handle. As my sister's looked on, I joyfully exclaimed something unintelligible....and then barfed all over the carpet. Melissa, as the initial shock of seeing vomit on Christmas morn faded, quickly ran in to awaken the Cleaner of All Puke (Mom). I was shuffled back to the bedroom (babbling in a state of euphoric delirium the whole way), medicin'd up and tucked back into bed, all happy and delirious and dizzy and very ill.
Obviously, I got over the flu and lived to enjoy many more wonderful Christmases.
I still own my Godzilla and Rodan. And there is a part of me that would like to pack them away safely somewhere to "save" them. But what would the point of that be? That would relegate my beloved toys to just another couple of objects gathering dust in my attic. That's why they are currently in the basement of my parent's house and my nephews still play with them. And it gives me great joy to see them doing so. I occasionally have to replace the rubber bands in Rodan's claws or locate a missing peice of Godzilla. But each time I see them being enjoyed by those little guys, I get a happy flashback of what it was like to be a kid at Christmas. And it's priceless :0)
