My sister and I shared a room growing up. It was a big room with blue carpeting and windows on three sides. There was a really long eight-drawer cabinet that stretched almost half the length of the room that was stuffed with paper dolls and school supplies. We had a cool writing desk by the closet. And off in the corner of the room there was a stereo.
My sister got that treasure as a present. I got some records. (Donny Osmond - To You With Love. Oh, how I screamed with joy when I opened that package! It was, I imagined, written just for me. And with love.)
There was only one problem. My sister wasn't a Donny fan. Her heart belonged to David Cassidy. (Our room was papered with Teen Beat posters. Her side was David and mine was Donny. Well - I did sneak one Bobby Sherman poster in the mix....) Anyway she didn't want to listen to Donny.
So....we didn't listen to Donny.
Unless, of course, she was gone. Then I'd toss off her album in a heartbeat!
This went on for so long. No amount of complaining on my part would force my mother's hand. I was forever doomed to listen to someone else's play list.
The fates have a way of evening things out. Christmas came again. We were taking turns opening presents - youngest to oldest - like we always did. It was the third go around. My turn. I tore into a package that was about the size of bread box.
It was a clock radio.
My sister gasped. I looked at her and saw the shocked look in her eyes. It came to me then. SHE had wanted the clock radio. I got what she asked for.
"There is a higher power at work here!" I thought.
Oh, how I instantly loved that sleek clock radio that I never even knew I wanted before but now realized was the very thing I'd needed all my life! I ran it upstairs and powered it up. It looked so great on that second shelf of the room divider. And it was on my side!
Life was different when you owned a clock radio that someone else desired. I got to listen to whatever radio station I wanted to listen to. I got to set the alarm to whenever I wanted to wake (her) up. And I got to turn up the volume to whatever level I wanted - as long as it wasn't bugging Mom and Dad.
Life was good.
The best thing happened. We had to meet me in the middle. My sister had to give me record player time if she wanted to set my alarm. She had to listen to Donny if she wanted to catch the top 40 countdown. It was lovely.
Years later we found out that the clock radio had been mistagged. It was supposed to have gone to my sister. Mom said she didn't know how that had happened.
I think I know how that happened.
The big 3 were at work. The higher power, Christmas magic, and Mom.
Yes, I think my mom did it. She would never admit to it, but it must've been her handiwork. My whining and pleading had not gone unheard. She played the Mom card and pulled the gift tag. I'm sure of it!
I wonder what my sister got that Christmas?
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