Photo: Mario Baillargeon
These p’tits gars are the proud new owners of treasures coveted, that they protect their guns from cowboy, says the author.
Year-end gift to the reporters of the Duty, the series of Snapshots proposes that fictional texts inspired by archival photos of the Holiday season sent by readers to the editors. Today, a text by Sylvain Cormier and a picture of Mario Baillargeon.
You see what, you, on this snapshot of after the unwrapping of the gifts ? To me, it is the accordion, the two trucks. These p’tits gars are the proud new owners of treasures coveted, that they protect their guns cowboy. I understand. Obviously, they had what they were hoping for. It makes you wonder if they don’t have a little maneuvered to counter the sworn enemy of a Christmas successful : the damn surprise.
I am well placed to say : it could be, a Christmas guaranteed on invoice.
Very early, the gifted child that I was — you know that I was doing full sentences, subject-verb-complement, two years, I realized that for the kick of gifts, one is never better served than by oneself. And that we should not rely too much on the father Christmas.
Relying on the temper anxiety of my mom, who was terribly afraid that I don’t like my gifts, I offered in my great meekness of a winning strategy… and that is reassuring. As much as I, too, dreaded the toy without interest (or worse, underwear !) much more than the whooping cough and small pox. I to him suggested to me to take care of everything. She agreed, relieved.
It was necessary also to convince my dad : it was that it was convenient also. I do not know exactly what year my lobby broke through the defenses of the executive committee, but I perfectly remember the Christmas of my nine years.
As of the end of October, I was ready to launch the operation gifts. The arrival of the Gift catalog Dream Simpsons Sears Christmas 1970 gestured to the pandemonium. I vérifiai first with the competent authorities of the allocated budget. I had a 20 $ from mom and dad, $ 20 from my grand-parents on the maternal side, and 10 $ of my aunt, sister of my mother.
I would have liked to add to my nest egg the 10 $ from my other grandparents, but they were only day of the year. Being superlatively good in the additions (a skill sadly lost since then), I began my shopping catalog with $ 50 of credits.
The good pages
Moments of ecstasy, moments of eternity. I didn’t have the eyes bigger than the belly, it would have been futile : I was in the mode maximization of gains, it was much better. Page 47, I paused on the images of the small cars Hot Wheels, with their tyres fast, the price of which does me détroussait not too much : five choices for$ 3.99. The Chapparal, the Ferrari 312P, the VW Beach Bomb, seven other possibilities. At this price, I could afford ten. The circuit Laguna Oval, at $ 9.99, it demanded reflection. There was also the series of Johnny Lightning. And the six “stock cars” Corgi. And the Matchbox. Dilemma. Procrastination. Intricate calculations.
Going to see elsewhere, I think. Page 83, titled ” heroes of the west by Marx “, I was of the effect, but I had agreed to a pact with my brother : he was the Johnny West, and I, the G. I. Joe. To each his own battle. I found a full page 85.
The unpopular war of Viet Nam have had because of the outfits of soldiers, the company Hasbro has adapted their product : it was now ” the team adventure G. I. Joe “. Equipment, frogman, explorer, space pilot trial. Going to the range of the test pilot, at 7,49 $ with the parachute. I selected also the ” Commander of team speaking “, at the same price. “Gives eight commandments, when one pulls his nameplate,” said the description : sacred bonus.
Mine of nothing, if I took any, I was to $ 40. If I relied on my science, it left me ten for the comic book, page 87. Of Asterix, Tintin ? To 1.89 $ the volume, and round up two, five times two equals ten. And if I gave up at Laguna Oval ? Five bédés more.I could always pick me up to the anniversary of my 10 years, at the end of January.
There had to rally mother, grand-mother and aunt, on a Saturday afternoon with no snow (my mother was very afraid of the storms), and it was destination Galeries d’anjou. In no time, I had found everything. In return, I delivered to each of the cars, figurines, equipment and books, distributed according to the amounts.
And like every year, I had to wait until Christmas day. My objects of desire, in transit from the generous donors, came back to me wrapped, and I déballai with excitement. I exclaimed, for the benefit of the rest of the family gathered : “A G. I. Joe who’s talking ! This is what I wanted ! “
My parents, my grandparents, my aunt were happy. I was thrilled, to the angels. Stars in their eyes. My collections had increased considerably. Still one or two Christmases and I would have all the Asterix.
Even today, with my great friend, we’ll go to the record store so she buys me my gift. No chance to take. This is the magic of Christmas.