Back in 2003 I was a television reporter near the bottom of the work food chain, which gave me the responsibility of working many major holidays. That year, I was scheduled to anchor the Christmas Day newscasts, which meant I had to be in Fargo on Dec. 25 instead of at home in Cavalier celebrating with my family.
Luckily I had Thanksgiving Day off and I headed home for turkey with all the trimmings and Mom’s pumpkin pie. Once we polished off our meal my extended family, including aunts, uncles, cousins and Grandma and Grandpa Quam, settled in to a food coma in the basement.
That’s when Mom got a gleam in her eye. From the corner of the room she revealed a miniature Christmas tree, which she placed on the center of the coffee table. Mom continued to produce Christmas items, including a stack of beautifully wrapped presents. Everyone else seemed to be in on this prank, but I was clueless.
“Surprise!” they yelled in my direction. I was surprised indeed and I had no idea what was going on.
Mom figured since I couldn’t spend Christmas at home with my family, they would hold a surprise Christmas a few weeks early. Much of what happened next has faded in my memory, but I do remember identically wrapped gifts for all of the “kids” who were there – eight in all.
My brother John unwrapped his gift first – it was a toy gun made from PVC pipes and when you blew through it, it shot miniature marshmallows.
My Mom stood at the center of the chaos with a symphony of crinkling wrapping paper playing around her. She raised her voice to be heard, “Ok, these guns are meant for OUTSIDE use – that’s why I got the rainbow marshmallows – so you can find them in the snow. Please do not shoot them inside…”
As if on cue, John blew through his gun and hit Mom in the forehead with the THUD of a green marshmallow.
He held his breath for her reaction. But there was no time for that. With seven other marshmallow guns assembled and loaded, a colorful marshmallow war broke out in the living room that day. It was unlike anything I’ve been a part of before or since.
Many of the unarmed adults sought refuge behind the kids. Dad headed upstairs. One cousin moved the couch out from the wall so he had a bunker and the other cousin hid behind the loveseat to reload the marshmallow ammunition. Through the chaos, giggling and hollering could be heard in harmony.
Retired soldier Grandpa Quam got a hold of one of the guns. As a lifelong smoker, he didn’t quite have the air power to shoot his ammunition very far but it didn’t stop him from playing. He loaded another marshmallow and took aim at one of his grandkids while his giggles laugh carried across the room and he wiped tears from his eyes.
Right then Grandpa got hit in the face and started laughing even harder. Instead of exhaling to shoot the loaded ammo, he inhaled and the marshmallow hit him in the back of the throat. He had to leave the marshmallow war zone, on account of the coughing and coking that followed. Don’t worry – he survived the marshmallow war.
It was the best Christmas ever…and it just so happened to occur on Thanksgiving Day.
That is awesome. I’ll bet your mother never intended for those guns to go outside. It sounds like a wonderful memory and even more special with Grandpa Quam.