A Very Crappy Christmas with the Hinsons
by Joseph C. Hinson
December 25, 2001

I think we're planning a Christmas special for next year. Picture this: "A Very Crappy Christmas with the Hinsons." First, it'll be on a cable channel that no one watches. Like FX. At least a cable channel where the best things are the re-runs. Come on. How many people, not including Howard Stern, actually tune in for "Son of a Beach" or "The Man Show"?

But the Christmas show would be tacky. We'd take a Frosty from someone's yard, throw in a couple of those three feet candles, some manger scenes where Mary and Joseph are neon. Then we'd have a fat, bloated Santa throwing hard candy at the empty seats where the studio audience would have been if they were invited.

We'd have a guest like Franklyn Graham to come out and speak about Christmas and why Islam is "an evil and wicked religion." (See also Franklin Graham? His Father's Son?  where he says "The God of Islam is not the same God. He's not the son of God of the Christian or Judeo-Christian faith. It's a different God and I believe it is a very evil and wicked religion.") Then Mariah Carey would come out and make us wretch with her version of "The Christmas Song." We'd make sure we asked her before hand to hit as many high notes as she could, not because they go with the song, but so she could prove to us that she actually has some talent.

For a prayer, we'd ask Pat Robertson to come out. We'd make sure he asked God not to allow any hurricanes or other inclement weather to hit us, to send them all to Florida, like he did with Hurricane Andrew a few years ago. We'd have Marlee Matlin on because she was once really, really hot, in spite of being in a show with Mark Harmon. We'd have her signing what Robertson was saying, but her hands might get in front of her face and we wouldn't want that.

Next, we'd ask the rest of my extended family to come out and share stories of Hinson "holler daze" of past. Since none of my family would actually come, we'd have to hire extras. Since these people would, in fact, be working for me, I'd pay them extra if they pretended to like me, double if they hugged me at the end and said, "Call me. We'll do lunch." Then we'd trade presents. I'd receive year long subscriptions to Trains, CTC Board, Diesel Era, Railfan & Railroad and Field & Stream.

After that, our next musical guest will be Frank Sinatra, Jr. doing "That Swinging Manger." This guy ain't no Nancy Sinatra, you know? He's certainly no Blue Eyes. To close the show, we'd bring out some cute child with no camera skills to recite -- from memory -- the Christmas Story.

And with all of that, it still couldn't be any more crappy than this Christmas. Our children, Michael and Jenna, have literally taken turns being bad. Until tonight, that is, when they were both just bad. The neighbors came over three times yesterday... each time to ask us for either a ride somewhere or to use the phone. I wondered if they thought we were just nice people. Then I realized that everyone else must have been with the families elsewhere, it being Christmas and everything.

Last year we were excommunicated, too. We rode through Cherokee County listening to WBT's Christmas specials. In York, we were shocked that gas had dropped to just $1.17 a gallon. This year, it's 88 cents in Rock Hill! Two years ago were out in Memphis. We ate Christmas dinner at a truck stop, then caught a four unit intermodal train at Harvard Yard in Marion, Arkansas. That actually wasn't a bad Christmas. We rode around Memphis and caught an old Seaboard SW1500 at CSX's Leewood Yard. (And everyone goes, "Huh?")

Three years ago, I was spending the holiday with Beth in Columbia. Me, her and Amy drove up -- is that correct grammar? -- to Union to spend Christmas Eve with my mother's side of the family. I think that was the last time I saw any of them. I probably didn't enjoy the time enough because I was hung up over someone. Big stupid me. I was much younger back then though. I was 28. That year Amy did give me U2's 2 CD best of set. I still listen to that a lot today. Three years ago. That was the last time the whole disjointed clan was together -- me, Dad, my step-mother and my sisters.

It seems like decades ago and just last week. Some of us live with the pain. Others aren't as fortunate and pass on much too young. At the grave sites last week, I told them I loved them and missed them. And I do. Every day. I also told my father that we never had to see eye to eye on everything to still love one another. I'm not sure either of us understood that when he was alive. Too late now.

See also:
So That Was Christmas? (12/26/98... on second though, don't!)

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