Christmas in Twisp - A Duvall Kid's Perspective
By Chad
Duvall
hour long trip to the middle of nowhere, crammed
in the back of an old baby blue Ford station wagon, while jockeying
with your
brothers for position the entire way.
Once Mom and Dad finally
corralled
us into the car, we knew that it would be just 30 minutes until we
reached
Moses Lake, where we would get out and eat
like KINGS at McDonalds. After a
very satisfying 1200-calorie gut bomb, we raced back to the car.
Everything was
a competition when we were kids. This particular
event was the "run as
fast as you can back to the car to avoid the middle seat" dash. Once
inside the car, it was on to more activities such as "foot stomping",
"leg pinching,"
"elbow throwing" and "name calling" in the back seat, with the two
people we were the least happy to be stuck with for so close and for so
long- brothers.
Poor Mom spent half the trip with
her head turned, eyes gazing half way between us and the back door jam
of the
car. We never really could figure out what she
was looking at, but we knew she
was pissed. Occasionally, we would lean
forward to try to make eye contact with her just to be funny. That move
generally set off a
sequence of events that usually brought Dad into the game,
which was neither desirable nor fair from our point of view.
Dad
had the presence of "Cool
Hand Luke" up in the front seat, his hand blindly swinging back to let
you
know that you were in for it. He didn't care who, what,
or where the smack
would land as long as there was contact. This included whether you were
even a
part of the "incident" or not. No wonder we were so good at dodge
ball in school.
Dad
would always dole out threats
like: "I'm going to turn this car around right now you little
bastards", but we knew this wasn't
true, because he was looking
forward to this more than we were. He would also
threaten to pull over to beat our little asses. Also a lie. If you knew Dad, you knew he wasn't going to
stop unless
we needed gas or he was hungry. A senseless stop would ruin the
good time we were making.
This was an amazing display of impatience and anger dealt
with incredible efficiency. The words came out so clearly, but she
didn't even open
her mouth. Wow.
Just outside of Coulee City and
back in time about 400 years was a joyride we liked to call the "Hilly
Road". This was simply a part of the road that had a lot
of hills.
Brilliant, I know. If hit at the right
speed
it would give you a weightless feeling in your stomach, which was like
a drug
for us kids. "The Back Seat Posse" would
feel the need for speed to
get this feeling, no matter what the road conditions were like. Dad
would
resist at first, but he usually came around if for no other reason than
to shut
us up. We usually got our fix if memory serves me right.
As we approached Twisp, we always
passed through the budding metropolises of Carlton and Methow. These
two towns always brought smiles
to our faces
for two reasons: 1) We knew we were very close to Grandma and
Grandpa's house and 2) They were bigger shit-holes than Othello, where
we were growing
up. No
matter how bad things got in our home land, we could always count on
good 'ol Carlton and Methow to anchor the list of "best places to live
in
Eastern Washington."
We couldn't wait! We were almost to our final destination.
Of course, we were excited to see the family, but since our legs were
cramped and our asses had been
asleep for at least
an hour, getting out of the car was priority number one.
Aaaahhhhh, we were finally there
and usually the first ones to arrive. After a few strategically tossed
snowballs, it was time to unpack the car of all the gifts that
Mom and Dad
brought for everyone else. This seemed to last as long as the trip
itself. This
was truly a great experience for us kids. Everyone bought for everyone
and we
all got at least four presents. There was none of this "White
Elephant" crap where everyone gets one cheesy gift and pretends to be
excited
about it. No way!
We all got good stuff and that's what made this trip so cool.
As we walked into Grandma and
Grandpa's rustic log cabin, we were reminded of an old time casino we
saw on
some Spaghetti Western. The air was filled
with smoke, the table was stocked
with cards and poker chips, and in the hazy distance were the neon
colored
lights of the Christmas tree. The chirp of the police
scanner seemed to be a
bit out of place, but hell, it was the '80s and Grandma and Grandpa
were hip
with the times.
Grandma would greet us with a hug
and a chuckle and Grandpa,
wearing a hunter-orange cap complete with ear flaps, would ruff up our
hair and
laugh about
it with his tongue half way out. He would also always find some way
to throw in the well-honed phrase, "Well, Je..sus....Christ" as he
listened to Dad's update. In the
distance you could hear Grandma's faint,
"Well I'll be damned", as she listened to Mom's side of
things.
After fulfilling the obligatory
greetings,
we made the annual mad dash for the popcorn balls and cookie jar. After
that it
was on to the candy jar with all the
stale hard candies. That didn't matter
because all candy is good candy. It didn't take long to get bored in
that
house. We usually ended up in the back room jumping
on the beds or snooping
around the house like a cat in a new environment. As our other
relatives showed
up we would race out to the living room to greet them and
to scope out their
gift sacks. It was all about quantity. We knew we were in for a good
Christmas if
our aunts and uncles had to make multiple trips out to the car to
get all the
loot.
Before
we could get comfortable at
the table for the big game of gambling, we had to get ready for bed.
This
consisted of again jockeying for position on the
floor in the living room,
before the rest of the gang showed up. Since we were usually the first
to
arrive, we had first choice of that prime shag carpet real estate.
The big dilemma was who would be
stuck sleeping next to Heather. If I remember right, she had enough
energy to
power a small city. She would show up
after being cooped up from her long ride
and unleash all her fury to who ever was close to her. This usually
consisted
of: tackling, yelling, and a few nicely placed
ass plants to the middle of your
back.
After the annual battle with
Heather it was time for bed. Not an easy task due to the parents
smoking and
laughing at the table no more than six feet away.
As soon as we would raise our
heads to see what the hell was so funny, we where told to lie down and
go back
to sleep (as if any sleeping was being done). Not
only that, but the
Grandfather clock would be ticking so loud that I couldn't do anything
but
count the amount of ticks between laughing outbursts. Not to mention
the low
baritone ring of the clock letting you know exactly what time it was.
That was
a joy in itself. If that wasn't bad enough there was the every half
hour
clock-
ringing symphony. There must have been ten clocks in the living room
alone, none of which were set to the same time. On the hour (depending
on which
clock you
were looking at) one would start to ring then another, then
another and so on. This would last for what seemed like an
eternity,
but that seemed to just get you all
revved up for the next curtain call.
Christmas morning...
Excitement
was in the air. There
were presents under the tree. Everyone was in a good mood.
And of course there was a myth that Santa
Claus had been
there last night. We believed it even though we saw everyone
come in the house one by one and put the presents under the tree
themselves,
just as we had done
when we got there.
would hand them out to his
"little helpers." We got all kinds of stuff. Most of it we played
with for only that day, but that was fine with us, because it was stuff
that
Santa brought us.
Then
it was time to eat. Grandma's
chicken noodles were the best. No matter how much we ate, there was
always
more. We couldn't sit at the big table,
though. We had our own "kids
table." Jee...sus...Christ, that sucked.
No
way was there enough room at
that table for everyone. So eventually
one of the kids got to sit at the big table and that was a total
violation of
the
rules, and the civil unrest began. One quick "ventril-o-scold"
from Mom usually ended the protest rather quickly. After dinner came
the
Coconut Surprise – so
sweet even a kid would get sick from it, but that
wouldn't turn us away. That shit was awesome!
games, music, clothes, remote
control cars, and a bunch of useless crap that Mom and Dad got. Dad
could
barely see out the back window to drive and we
sometimes had to hold some of
the stuff on our laps. That usually kept us quiet for most of the way
home and
probably made the return trip a lot easier on
Mom and Dad.
Merry Christmas.
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Chad Duvall is a self
proclaimed procrastinator hailing from
the Great Northwest. With a disabling and crippling case of A.D.D., he
has a
lot of time to think back on
stupid situations of his past. He is also an
active musician playing Bass in a heavy metal band in Seattle, I ROT
and enjoys
digital photography. For money, Chad has
been a massage therapist for 10 years.
www.itmassage.com