My dad might've gone on strike and things would've gotten tight. One comic a month, meatloaf for dinner five nights a week instead of two and more homemade clothes for gym class. This was the spectre that lingered over my childhood, but, thankfully, it never happened. We continued on, scraping by, my parents never letting on by just how much.
They gave me and my sister a great life. We didn't have the first computer, the newest gaming system or new cars at 16, but we had a lot of the things that matter. A good education, enough food, quality shelter. And I could essentially buy as many comics as I wanted, so, awesome.
What I learned from them was that approaching problems and situations with an attitude of I will survive is a pretty reasonable posture. I know in my adulthood, with the transition of my youthful adorableness into rugged handsomosity, that I won't always see the same forgiveness I did as a kid, but even if I don't, I will survive.
What you have to have straight is your priorities.
For Christmas, I would love to have Incredible Change-Bots Two by Jeffrey Brown, Any Empire by Nate Powell, I Will Bite You! by Joseph Lambert, Rift by James Jean, a Quimby's patch, the album 4 x 4 by 4 on the Floor, a brown corduroy sports jacket, the DVD's Captain America and Thor, season 2 of Community, a big ole TV and DVD player, Laura Park's buttons from El Boton, a Hot Rod figure like I had as a kid, 11/22/63 by Stephen King, an external portable hard drive and, really, I could just keep naming things. The list just goes on and on.
But, it's just a list. My mom asks me what I'd like for Christmas and I don't tell her these things. I'm not a kid anymore. I appreciate that it's not important what you can get in life and it's not important what you give. It's not about the stuff, which is why it's so easy to let it go and let it come as it will. I only need the same educating, food, shelter. Clothes, too, I forgot to include that before. I'm no nudie.
(I will be giving myself and my cats {shutup) a gift, though. It's going to be a declawing for Khambat, the younger of the two. After tearing up one of my comics and giving the older cat a scar, it's time to give those paws some pause.)
My parents gave me what they could. That's what matters. And that's what I want to do. Give what I can, give what matters. I may not have as much money as I'd like, but I want to show my appreciation to the people and organizations that make a difference for me and others, so I give there. I'll give even when I know it might turn out badly. I'll give because I am able to complete that action.
So, uh, kind of tooting my own horn. Not trying to be prideful, just honest. Which is just more giving, of course. Giving of myself.
My gift to you, gentle readers, you fishers of men, wishers of women, childish whores and skipper babies, friends, Romans, country men, the downtrodden, the uplifted, the all encompassing, all-singing, all-dancing kindness of the world, is just a suggestion: Give what you can, when you can, and give what matters. And screw Christmas. It's not a one day thing, it's a daily thing. You make a difference in yourself, and you'll make a difference in others and it just keeps going on and on and on.
And when things are bad, keep in mind, "I will survive."
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