Gee Thanks for the Parka

Gee, thanks for the parka








    This is one of my holiday stories that involves the disappointing Christmas gifts in my life. Although Greg was a literal Christmas baby and deeply loved what he called "winterfest" he accepted whatever he was given without much emotion. In my sad case the quality of the gift was often interpreted as the amount of esteem in which you were held by the giver. The year was 1965 in very flush times for the Creason family and my senior year of high school. I had gained my precious driver's license in the previous year and was priveleged to drive a fairly new Volkswagen beetle to school in my Junior and Senior years. I was so naive and spoiled I had no idea what was involved in acquiring and frugally spending money. It was there always and you spent the stuff freely was my idea. While a VW bug was a great little car and perfect for a punk like me I tried to jazz it up by putting decals on the windows saying stupid slogans like "genuine VW parts" or the name of my high school. With a small amount of money I managed to get some custom hub caps and wood knobs for my radio and gear shift. It was my dream to get a wood steering wheel to truly trick out the interior. I slyly let my Dad know that this steering wheel would be the perfect package under the bull pine that year. He said to me in his unique breathless voice "what I am going to get you, you won't need a wood steering wheel." In my immature mind I somehow instantly thought that meant he was getting me a new and way cooler car. After more preposterous musing I turned the dream into a set of keys for a Porsche 356 that was about THE coolest ride in existence by my estimation. Steve McQueen drove a Porsche 356! Just before the big day dozens of packages were placed around the tree and there was one fairly large one for me amongst the many for my little sister. I could hardly wait for the celebration and when I did open the package I found instead of keys to my Porsche a puffy parka jacket that BC had obviously  purchased from some amateur "wholesaler" who was dealing somethingt that "fell" off the back of a truck somewhere in the garment district. It is hard to describe this gift but no one in my high school ever, ever would wear a parka jacket which may have been useful if you lived in Minnesota or North Dakota. The thing was lame beyond lame but I had to smile with my broken heart and model the atrcious thing for my parents. In the ensuing months I had to leave the house wearing this puffy albatross, then jettison it on the ride to school before anyone besides the knowing Paul Knowlton would ever see it. That also meant I was cold in the Winter weather without a jacket but not branded as some nerd wearing a god damned Parka jacket. 



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