My brother is one of those incredibly special people in my life. I was heartbroken when he moved out west for school and never returned. Whenever we speak, which is never often enough, we are always able to pick up exactly where we left off. And there is always, always, a reference to our childhood thrown into every conversation.
Christmas was always a really special time in our house growing up. Similar to how I attempt to do it, we spent the entire month celebrating. It was pretty much impossible to be in a lousy mood - or misbehave - during the month of December. Of course we argued about the stupid things like who got to open which door on the advent calendar, and who got to hang which of the goofy 70's troll ornaments on the tree. (There was a set my mom had of these cork size troll guys, all who had different colored hats and wire framed glasses. They shrunk in number over the years, but they were always my favorite to hang. No idea why, except that maybe because they were my brother's too, and it gave us something to fight over.)
Several years back, my brother and I decided that rather than buy each other gifts, we'd just buy for the kids…and make each other ornaments. Sounds like we let each other off the hook, right? Wrong. Massive challenge.
My brother might be the most naturally gifted person I know. He is a product designer by trade. That means he has the design sense of an artist with the mind of an engineer. It also means I was doomed from the outset. I learned long ago not to compete with Gregg, or have any sense of sibling rivalry with him at all, or my self-esteem would be right in the toilet. I may have some stuff going for me, but next to my brother, I look decidedly untalented.
Each year, Gregg's ornament arrives. Each year, I unwrap it, and am immediately taken back to the 70's and 80's. As I sit on a chair in my living room to type this, I am looking at my tree to view up at a few of my favorites. I wonder how he fashioned a tiny pair of turquoise blue leopard skin pants that hang on a tiny hanger - my favorite piece of rebellious clothing from freshman year in high school. And a tiny doll house bed, with miniature versions of he and I jumping up and down on it, created with photos and tiny springs. There is a 45 RPM record of "Hot Line," our classic hit from our childhood band "The Levi Kids." And my all time favorite one, that actually can't hang because it's too heavy.
It's a Seneca apple juice can. It was a popular brand when we were children. I've never actually tried the juice, but the two of us sang the theme song to the Seneca commercial every single time we went up the chairlift when we went skiing as kids. I have no idea why; it's just one of those stupid things you do with your sibling to entertain yourselves. We had a routine to it though. We pulled our ski goggles down, and got in each others faces. Alternated our faces back and forth. It was ridiculous and hysterical at the same time. And somehow, thirty years later, my brother managed to find a can. And then he found a way to record himself singing the song, and bury it inside that can. There is a button to press, and then BAM…instant transport back to 1978.
Merry Christmas Gregg, to you, Samantha, and Sophia. I miss spending the holidays with you, and all the incredible times we shared growing up. And I cherish the times that we still do, rare as they are.
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