Somewhere in My Memory

Let's say I found a time machine. Let's just say. And let's say, for the sake of argument,  it only allowed me to travel back and forth through time once before it self destructed. I mean, talk about a moral and logistical nightmare dilema super soul test. I've probably done 74 stupid things a day since 1994, so I could probably stand to go back and fix a few of them. Actually, now that I think about it, it's probably been 174 stupid things a day and it's actually probably been since 1991, so I would need a time machine with some more mileage to even put a dent in what I should have done differently in my life. Maybe a nice Japanese model with long life. If they're half as good at time machine development as they are at making superior cars, I'd definitely buy some stock in Taimu Turabaru (sound it out in a Japanese accent) corporation. But even if I didn't go back and try to change something in my own life, I could always also do something noble like go back and save someone's life or stop some heinous atrocity or something. Maybe see some dinosaurs. High five Aristotle. Laugh at Paris Hilton in jail. You know, something cool.

Most people don't know this, but in 1988, Nintendo of America made a really sneaky and business-savy move. They knew the American public wanted more Super Mario Bros, but the sequel was considered too difficult and too similar to the orignal game that they decided not to give them the REAL Super Mario Bros 2. Instead, they took this totally unrelated game called Doki Doki Panic, removed all of the playable characters, replaced those characters with Mario, Luigi, Toad, and Princess Toadstool, and they called it Super Mario Bros 2. I know that this story is both A.) the nerdiest thing you've ever heard, and B.) sounds ridiculous, but it's all completely true. If you don't believe me, look here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Super_Mario_Bros._2

Not only did Nintendo pull a fast one on the American public, but the ad campaign for this video game was the tastiest brainwash that had ever been concocted for an 8 year old mind. I vividly remember watching the commercial and my boy Mario was going OFF! Throwing bombs around, flying on magic carpets, picking stuff up off the gound and throwing it at bad guys. The guy was on FIRE! He didn't do that stuff in the first game! Dude. Sign me the F up. And oooooh SHIT! You could play as his friends! Luigi! Toad! The Princess. Eh, that's kinda gay, but strangley, I really want to try it out! And I remember (really really still have this vivid memory etched in my brain) after I watched the ad, I marched into the kitchen and in my 8 year old Boston accent I said,  "Mum. I just saw this comurshil on TV that showed Mah-rio flyin' and drawpin' bombs, and throwin' bad guys and stuff. It was AWESOME! I rilly need to tawk to ya about this game, but first I gutta go change my pants. So put on some cawfee and when I come back I need to modify my Christmas list." And modify it I did. Super Mario Bros 2 became the ONLY thing I thought about. I talked about it with my friends, dreamt about it, daydreamt about it (screw daydreamed, I'm using daydreamt), drew pictures of it, etc. It was all my 8 year old heart desired and if I could only have that game, life would be fine forever and I would never want anything else again. Really. It became the meaning of life. Simple as that. Actually, it was nice to have that kind of clairvoyance. I've never had it back, but I know it exists and it's that fact alone that keeps me going.

Ever heard of a shortage? That's where something is in low supply and the supplier cannot meet the needs of their clients. Sucks huh? Well, that's what I was told happened in 1988. My mom told me that there was a shortage of video game microchips and that there would likely be no way that I would get Super Mario Bros 2 for Christmas. Santa's elves couldn't make them, Nintendo coudln't crank them out, and there would be a shortage of Super Mario Bros 2 for a long time. No worries, ma. I'm on it.

Produce cyandie capsule. Open mouth. Insert. Chew. Chew, you fairy. Chew it like you mean it! CHEW YOU BASTARD!

Christmas Eve. Don't those two words automatically grab you? I think it's funny that no matter WHAT story you're telling, the fact that it was Christmas Eve enhances the story. "Dude, one time, I was readin' a book. It was Christmas Eve, right?" See? Aren't you interested to see what happened? I'm already sold on it. Anyway.

My great aunt Jean and great uncle Johnnie (on my mom's side) have basically acted as grandparents for my siblings and me. My mom's folks passed when I was really young and although I remember all happy things about them, I have only a handful of memories about my grandfather. Even fewer of my grandmother. But I've always been surrounded by the greatest people and I've luckily had about 3 or 4 grannies and grampas to backfill. Jean and Johnnie were the two that always got my brother and I our "big present". Don't know why or how that started, but things just unraveled that way. Over the years they (and the rest of my family) always came through and in 1988, they didn't disappoint. I remember it was Christmas Eve (calm down) and Scott and I got some clothes and toys and smaller things, but then aunt Jean said, "You and Scotty need to open this one together" and she held up a small bag.

We both reached in and slowly pulled out a box that was covered in tissue paper. From where I was standing, I was looking at the back of the box and Scott was looking at the front. On my side, the tissue paper was folded so that I could clearly see Mario, but I thought the game was Super Mario Bros, which was a game we already had. I immediately felt horrible because I knew that once Jean found out we had the game already, she'd be kicking herself and would be REALLY upset that she didn't get the game we had asked for, so I feigned a huge reaction. I screamed, "Super Mario Bothers!" and tried to maintain a huge false excitement so that my aunt wouldn't feel bad. Even at 8 years old, I knew how seriously she took this stuff. Then Scott screamed.

"TWO!"

What? Shut the F up, Scott.

The entire world went in slow motion. Scott ripped the tissue paper off of the game and the bag fell like the coffee cup in The Usual Suspects.

No WAY this was Super Mario Bros 2. Microchip shortage. Not getting it for Christmas. Maybe next year. All of those things went swirling from my mind like water down a drain as Scott and I stood there and held the video game we had hoped for. It was really there in our living room. We were actually holding it. I almost spontaneously combusted.

I remember losing my mind (with Scott) and hugging everyone in the room. We took off sdown the hallway cheering and running to the TV room to finally play this game that I had dreamt about and thought about and talked about for months. My dad, who will forever be a ballbuster, yelled after us, "Hey I'm watching football in there!!!!" But he wasn't nor would he be.  It was a Super Mario Bros 2 night and it was one of the happiest moments I've ever had.

As it turns out, my aunt waited outside of a store before it opened to get the game, but wasn't issued a number by the clerks because there were none left to issue. So she waited outside the store offering to buy the copies that customers had already bought. I don't know what she paid for it, but that thought has never left my mind. She and my uncle cared so much about us, that they asked strangers to buy a video game from them for a higher price than they paid for it. And they actually got a copy. To this day I'm humbled. And as much as I still appreciate it to this day, it honestly makes me sad that I'll never be able to return that favor.
We were never rich or even well off, but I was always taken care of and I never went without anything. I was fortunate that my family always made Christmas a really special and really happy time . When I was a kid, everything used to make me happy and I was bascially happy all the time. Then I got older, life got more complicated, people started to be dicks, and I had less and less time for myself and enjoyed life much less than I once did. Suddenly I woke up one day and I was an adult with a job and bills and stress. Square that every year and you have me now, and now very few things make me happy. There are maybe about five seconds a year where I get that same feeling I had when I was a kid and I got to open Super Mario Bros 2. I really miss those days when I could get excited and happy about the little things. That being said, if I had that time machine right now, I'd got back to Christmas Eve of 1988 and relive that moment, because I have seldom been happier than that in my entire life. And I'd take you all with me to prove it.

I've got about 15 million happy memories from Christmas. That was just one. I won't even start the rest of the list, but will say that this song is from Home Alone (one of my other favorite Christmas memories). This song always gets me. To all my friends and family, I really hope for all of you that (in your own way) you open Super Mario Bros 2 this Christmas and that you are 8 years old, happier than you've ever been, and that you can experience that moment of total clairvoyance and fulfillment that I had when I was that age. Even if you've never had it, stay hopeful because it's real. I know it is. Because even if I don't ever have it again, it exists somewhere in my memory.

Peace on Earth. Good will toward men.

Porch