Tuesday, December 14, 2004

Rusty's Christmases: Volume One, The 1970s

On Christmas of 1974, I was eight months in my mamma's tummy, so I didn't get to celebrate with anyone but her... but she did manage to slip me this gift (I mean, what do you get a fetus really?).



1975 was the year they began to leave me alone with the scary snowman. They called him "Reggie," but I knew better.



Things didn't change much in 1976, even in the warm Mississippi winters.



Confusion sets in in 1977 when, at age two, my parents decide I should be a man. "Here's a bat and ball, Rusty," they say, and I show my confusion.



Yeah, so it turns out that your brain is kinda mushy when you're young. By the time I was three in 1978, I realized -- through the help of my brother Tony -- that the scary snowman was just a regular snowman (though I still looked for him when I opened Christmas gifts). It wouldn't be until years later that I learned the real scary snowman... was myself.



1979, the end of the "me" generation, and I have finally become a well-adjusted person, fully capable of screaming "Me! Me! Me!" along with everyone else (my little sister showed me how, too--she begged Mom for this, our dog bullet).



Hope you're looking forward to Rusty's Christmases of the 1980s. I know I am!