Christmas 1988

I suppose you could say it all began 26 years ago.

It was 1988. Ronald Reagan Was the President of the United States, Michael Jackson was still black, and "A Very Brady Christmas" topped the ratings for CBS.

Oh, and I guess that little cartoon called, "The Real Ghostbusters" was pretty popular too.

For what seemed like months, and it very well could have been, I had been begging for my parents to buy me some Ghostbusters toys.

 I needed them more than I would ever need an education, more than I would ever need a liver to process insane amounts of alcohol consumed in High School, and more than I would ever need lungs to breathe.

I NEEDED GHOSTBUSTERS TOYS.

No matter how hard I begged, the answer was always the same. "Santa is going to bring you some."

Santa? How in the world can I possibly just sit here and wait for Santa to bring me some Ghostbusters?

In my 3 year old brain, I simply could not process the fact that I wasn't able to play with Egon, Ray, Peter, and Winston figures because I had to just sit back like a dork and wait for some stranger to drop in my house while I slept and bring me some.

Oh no, the addiction was far worse than anybody could have predicted, even if I had nothing of my own yet.

One night, as we roamed the aisles of our small town Wal-Mart, I begged again. I received the usual response. This is where my memory gets just a little fuzzy. Something happened. I don't know how I convinced them, but it finally worked. I wish I had some kind of video play back, because whatever strategy I used, it would have come in handy much later in life.

My parents caved in. It worked.

I left Wal-Mart with my very first Ghostbusters toy. A Fright Features Egon Spengler.

I was now ready to sit back and wait for the fat  man himself to shimmy his ass down the chimney and bring me more of these.

We spent that Christmas at my Grandma's house in the backwoods, hillbilly town of Nebraska City, NE. I don't remember exactly how long we were there, but I remember the house that shit lived in at the time.

There was this big room, which in all honesty probably wasn't very big at all, but to a 3 year old, it was giant. In one corner there was a Christmas tree with some presents, and in another there was a tv. The middle of the room had a couch and chair, while the other side of the room had a table and chairs, maybe some other crap too!

The few days (at least what I think were a few days) leading up to Christmas were hell. Stuck in small town, middle of nowhere, Nebraska, and wondering if Santa was going to be able to find me and bring those Ghostbusters toys that my parents had promised he would bring for months was just killing me inside.

I was ready to get this shit underway.

Christmas morning finally did come. Like most of my mornings later in life, I woke up and took a shit. Even at the age of 3 I had priorities. Nowadays the first things I do are check Facebook and light up a smoke. Then I think about taking a dump. But hey, at least it's still part of my morning routine.

As I took the browns to the Super Bowl, my dad stood in the doorway and said that we should go see what Santa Claus brought. I wiped and went.

My haul that year was greater than almost any other year that would come after it. I got a talking Pee-Wee doll, several Pee-Wee's Playhouse toys, and yes, plenty of Ghostbusters.

Fright Features Ray Stantz, Terror Trash, and Granny Gross are the ones who come to mind right away. I'm sure there were a few others too.

It was the first Christmas that I remember, maybe that's why I hold it in such high regard. It was also the first one I ever had involving Ghostbusters. There were other years that involved it too, and I'm pretty sure I'll talk about those as well, but nothing beats the first one.

I have no idea where that house is located, nor have I been there in over 25 years, but I'll always remember the "big" room in little old Nebraska City, the room where Santa left me those Ghostbusters toys.