My family has a
holiday tradition of spending the month of December watching Christmas movies.
Well, we don’t spend the WHOLE month of December watching Christmas movies; we
are forced, of course, to set aside a little bit of time during the month for
sleeping and using the bathroom. (But I’m working on a plan to install a flat
screen TV in the bathroom, which should free up enough time to allow us to
squeeze in at least two more movies during the month.)
Anyway, our
favorite Christmas movie by far is “A Christmas Story.” That is the actual name
of the movie, but hardly anyone ever uses it. Most people refer to the film by
other names, such as the “Ralphie and Randy” movie, or the “BB Gun” movie, or
the “You’ll Shoot Your Eye Out” movie, or “Gone With the Wind.” (Some folks
understandably confuse a Civil War drama set in Georgia in the early 1860s with
a Christmas comedy set in northern Indiana in the early 1940s. A common
mistake.)
If you’ve seen
the movie, you already know it’s the nostalgic and hysterically funny story of
young Ralphie’s desperate attempt to convince his parents and Santa Claus that
an “official Red Ryder 200-shot range model air rifle” would make the perfect
Christmas gift. But his mom, his school teacher, and even a department store
Santa offer the dreaded anti-BB gun warning: “You’ll shoot your eye out!”
In the
meantime, his wacky dad wins a “major award,” a garishly lewd leg lamp,
complete with fishnet stocking, which he proudly displays in the family’s
picture window.
If you’ve never
seen the movie, then everything I say here makes no sense. (Go ahead, say it:
“Just like every other week, pal!”) On the other hand, this movie is on TV so
often — one cable network actually shows the film each year continuously for 24
hours beginning on Christmas Eve — if you’ve never seen the movie, then you’ll
have to tell me sometime what it’s like to live in an Amish community.
My family and I
love this movie primarily because of author Jean Shepherd’s memorable dialog.
We regularly quote lines from the movie to each other throughout the entire
calendar year.
For example, if
we’re at a big family picnic in the summer, and we overhear a relative say
something obscene, my daughters and I will make eye contact, smirk for a
moment, and then recite in unison, “My father worked in profanity the way other
artists might work in oils or clay. It was his true medium. A master.”
Moments later,
when we realize a hush has fallen over the entire picnic and dozens of
relatives are staring at us, wondering what in the world we just said, there is
only one thing to do. We recite in unison, “They looked at me as if I had
lobsters crawling out of my ears.”
Whenever anyone
in my family unwraps a gift, whether the occasion is a birthday or Father’s
Day, and whether the gift is a sweater or jewelry or a power tool, as soon as
the wrapping paper is torn away, the person receiving the gift squeals in a
high-pitched voice, “Wow! Whoopee! A zeppelin!”
And whenever
anyone in my family is angry at another member of the family, the seriousness
of the situation is diffused (take note psychologists) when someone wails,
“Daddy’s gonna kill Ralphie!”
If you think
this behavior is odd, you are being way too sensitive and “fra-GEE-lay” about
wholesome family fun. And if you don’t like it, then I “double dog dare you” to
stick your tongue to a frozen flag pole.
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