My Christmas Story

For those not aware, my brother, Buz, lost his battle with lymphoma in November of 1992. He was 23, and I was only 17 yet he's been in my thoughts every day since his death. I have a lot of fond memories of the time I shared with my big brother, and I'd like to share one of my happiest Christmases with Buz. If you are reading this post and don't celebrate Christmas, please indulge me.

Me, Ginger, and Buz. I don't know who the kid is, so THANKS A LOT FOR PHOTO BOMBING THE PIC, YOU BRAT!

I was asked recently what the best Christmas present I ever received was. Without even having to think about it, I replied, "a Super Stunt Dirt Bike." What is a Super Stunt Dirt Bike, you ask? Check this out: http://youtu.be/ukHCe-rKSIU (this confirms that there is, literally, no video you can't find on Youtube). "It goes through water!! It does loop-de-loops!!" As a young boy in the early 80s (I think 1981? '82?), there was nothing I wanted more. Compared with toys today, this may look like nothing special. But over 30 years ago, the Super Stunt Dirt Bike was a technological marvel (ok, maybe it wasn't, but I thought it was spectacular). You just wound it up, and that sucker could do anything, go anywhere, through any terrain, and do tricks!! I could imagine building elaborate courses for my dirt bike. I already had a loop-de-loop with Buz's matchbox car track!!! We lived on a small farm in western Washington and my active imagination foresaw endless space for my bike to zip around.

Picture doesn't really do it justice. In my mind it was way cooler

I did everything I could to get my hands on this prize. If you've watched A Christmas Story, this was my "Red Rider BB Gun." I dropped overt hints to my parents. I asked Santa; I wrote letters; I sat on laps. I had an elaborate campaign. If I could have requisitioned a billboard on our street, I would have plastered it with, "BUY BRIAN LIEBENOW A SUPER STUNT DIRT BIKE!! LIFE HAS LOST ALL MEANING WITHOUT ONE!!!" 

Fast forward to Christmas Eve. I've done everything humanly possible to get someone--anyone, parents, mythical red-suited Saints with elf-slaves, strange guy always trying to give me candy from his windowless white van, I didn't care--to buy me my coveted toy. I was so filled with anticipation for Christmas morning, I could hardly contain myself. Would I be happily racing my dirt bike across the wrapper-stewn living room floor Christmas morning or would I be despondently sitting on the couch in a hideous Christmas sweater from great-aunt So-and-So mumbling, "I love it. What a warm sweater. Best Christmas ever, mom. *SSSSIIIIIIIIIGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH*" ???

Buz was anxious to see if he'd gotten his own present. For the life of me, I can't remember what he wanted. That's how selfishly focused I was on the Super Stunt Dirt Bike. I think Buz wanted an actual dirt bike, if I remember correctly. He and I secretly decided to get up in the middle of the night to see the bounty we'd gotten from Santa. Yes, I still believed in Santa Claus, and Buz was too kind to tell me the truth about the big, fat man. 

(If you're a young child reading this post and you don't know where your presents actually come from, I've just ruined Christmas for you.  You're welcome.)

Anyway, Buz planned to set his alarm in our small, ranch-style farm house (I call it "small" but I think I had my own bedroom so it couldn't have been that tiny). He would then sneak into my room, quietly wake me up, and we would both tip-toe to the living room where I might get a peek at Kris Kringle himself!! (Ginger, were you in on this campaign, or was it just Buz and I? I can't remember.) That fateful night, I was filled with excitement for our mission. My parents' rules were strict: No Leaving the Room Until Christmas Morning!!! I don't know how, but I eventually drifted off to sleep. 

The next thing I knew, my brother was standing over me, silently shaking me awake. The house was freezing cold. We primarily heated it with a wood stove, and the fire had died down during the night. It must've been shortly after midnight. Being out in the country, there were no city or street lights outside to help illuminate the interior. There was no moon. It was pitch-dark in that house. I experimentally wriggled my fingers in front of my face and couldn't see a thing. As quietly as possible, I slipped out of bed, and we slowly crept down the hall to the living room. Did the Christmas tree have lights on it to help us see? I don't know, but by my recollection I was completely blind. Apparently, I'd missed Santa, or he hadn't yet appeared. I couldn't see enough to tell if he'd come, but he obviously wasn't in the room with us. Buz and I fumbled across the icy floor, agonizing over every sound we made, lest we wake our parents. I carefully felt the area around the tree. The stockings were full!!! Santa came!!! How does he find the time?? As Buz knelt beside me and fumblingly felt for any new gifts that hadn't surrounded the tree when we went to bed, my own paws searched for loot like a blind man searching frantically for a pile of gold.

...Wait...

...Was that...

...My fingers felt a hard plastic surface...

...Surely this wasn't here last night!!! 

...Is that a round crank on the side of this toy??? 

...A ridged handle for gripping as I set my bike loose on glorious adventures?? 

...And what is this??? 

...I feel two wheels...

...And that could only be a helmeted rider ready for the kind of missions that only Team America can handle!!!

With irrepressible glee, I loudly whispered to my brother, "I think it's a Super Stunt Dirt Bike!!!" 

Our mission complete, we creeped back to our warm beds and happily drifted back to sleep. Sure, there were other gifts to open, but I felt like Christmas was already over. Whether from Santa, my parents, some wealthy relative, or a creepy stranger, my gift had arrived. That's all that mattered. My eyes closed that night as my mind laid plans for my spectacular bike course. Any other gift was secondary. 

So, what's the point of this post? When I was a kid, I wanted this special toy. The night before Christmas, I got up, sneaked out of bed and confirmed that I did, indeed, get the toy. Is that it? Sounds like a lame knockoff of A Christmas Story. At least that movie had a leg lamp. Where's the leg lamp in this story?!?

"FRA-GEE-LAY...It must be Italian!"

If I might take a more serious turn, my point is my spotty memory of these events. I can't recall if Buz found his own coveted present that night. I don't remember what he wore when he gently woke me up. I can't remember what he said. I know he was there, but that's it. What grade was he in, sixth or seventh? I don't even know if this was a happy Christmas memory for him. If he was alive, I wouldn't think twice about it. My sister's still around and I'm sure not lamenting the fact that I can't remember if she was there that night. Just kidding, Ginger. I love you very much. 

I can't help but feel a little ashamed of my own self-absorption that Christmas. What was Buz's "Super Stunt Dirt Bike?" What materialistic toy did he dream about?

That's my happy Christmas memory, but I'll never be able to fill in all the details because my brother is gone. 

My wish for you: Whatever you celebrate this holiday season, I hope you get your own "Super Stunt Dirt Bike." May you share precious moments with the ones you love and please note the details. In the future, they may be all you have. And most importantly, may you have a happy, HEALTHY, 2014.

Merry Christmas, Buz