from the archives...(1995)

ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS A 28.8K FAX/MODEM WITH VOICE/FAX RECOGNITION by sandy feet What's on your Christmas wish list this year?And do you think Santa is paying attention? Some items from my past wish lists included (in chronological order) a pony, Barbie's Mansion, rabbit fur-lined ice skates, a lockable diary, a training bra, a typewriter, a key to the family car, my own car, a stereo system, peace on earth, black Reeboks, an extra floppy drive for my Mac, a track ball, the computer game Myst, and a laser printer. Santa was smart - s/he didn't always give me what I wished for. S/he realized the pony was not my fantasy so much as that of a close girlfriend who was much more into riding than I was. I feel s/he was wrong in denying me the training bra I so desperately wanted but didn't yet need, (that's probably why they're so small -- not enough training in my formative years), but - generally speaking - Santa's choices have been sound. The portable typewriter s/he left under the tree for me when I was about 12 was perhaps one of Santa's finest moments. It saw me through four years of collage, another year of graduate school and well into my first year of teaching at Weslaco -- when it was rendered unusable by a less-than-brilliant ex-boyfriend who swore the best way to clean a typewriter was to run it through the carwash. (I'm not making this up.) Fortunately, it was about to be replaced anyway by my first computer, a spiffy little Commodore 64 that I thought would be the last writing tool I would ever require. (Ha!) Of course, now we know that the idea that computer nirvana lies just one peripheral away is nothing but an illusion. That little Commodore started a whole chain of computer-related Christmas wishes that has caused Santa to throw up his/her hands and say, "More computer stuff??!! Don't you need any clothes, or something for the kitchen?" Santa can't help it if s/he lives in a climate requiring more apparel choices than the bathing suit/sarong wardrobe I favor. And a kitchen that has a fridge, a microwave, and a variety of mismatched glassware qualifies as fully stocked, in my opinion. So, Santa heaves a deep sigh, resignedly thumbs through a MacWarehouse catalog and has a shiny new fax/modem delivered just in time to help me get the Sons of the Beach web page on the internet. (Oh, I know it's not Christmas yet, but Santa knows the value of perfect timing.) Looking back, I would have to say that Santa has been very, very good to me... much better than I deserved. I try to be good, but good is a relative term and I am fully aware that I could have been - could BE - better. Santa knows this, too, but keeps coming back every year to exclaim over the token milk and cookies I set out and to leave my heart's fondest desire beneath the tree. In spite of everything, Santa is willing to give me the benefit of the doubt.... Last spring, when I went back to Michigan for my 20 year high school reunion, my parents gave me the use of their old Honda - still cluttered with the detritus of their most recent residence change - while I was in town. There, tucked away back behind the driver's seat and liberally dusted with cobwebs - lay a pair of rabbit fur-lined ice skates that I recognized very well. That Santa is a sentimental old elf.

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