A Cobra Christmas

Sixteen years ago I was seven, and the most important things in the universe were G.I. Joes (in fact, from the ages of four to twelve the most important things in the universe were G.I. Joes, and up until about eighteen they were still in the top five – when we got our first computer I was a freshman in high school and I used the Microsoft Works database program to construct a database cataloguing all of my G.I. Joe action figures by name, rank, affiliation, special forces, uniform color, and accessories – I didn’t really need to, I’d had all that memorized since I was five, but I wanted to see how the database worked, and I thought it would be a handy aid for my younger brothers).

So, I was seven. This was the first year G.I. Joes made an appearance in the Christmas decorations (actually, it might have been a year or two before, but facts aren’t really that important). We’d put up the tree. We had the Advent wreath out on the table for meals. Stockings were hung, candles were put in the windows, and (best of all) big fat giant outdoor Christmas lights adorned the entire roof.

Also among the decorations was a small plastic manger with a small plastic holy family and small plastic angels and shepherds and sheep, and maybe a cow and a donkey. This is where I decided to contribute.

I picked an elite force of about eight men (and, if I think back carefully I can probably tell you exactly which ones), outfitted them with all the gear they could carry (backpacks, bandoliers), armed them to the teeth (knives, guns, grenade launchers, a bazooka), and set them up around the manger. I must have done all this while my mom was busy baking or something, because when she saw them later she was horrified.

“GUNS!? Why do you have guns pointing at the baby Jesus!?” she exclaimed.

I explained to her that the guns weren’t pointing at the baby, but away from the baby. These eight soldiers were the perimeter guard I’d assigned to protect the manger from the threat of King Herod’s evil forces. It made perfect sense to me. Soldiers with swords riding in on camels would never try and attack a modern fighting force as well-trained and well-armed as the G.I. Joe team. I was saving the baby Jesus. What better way to celebrate Christmas?

So they got to stay.

It wasn’t long after that that the siblings got involved. Within a day every single G.I. Joe figure, good and bad, had been carefully placed among the Christmas decorations. They were on top of the piano burrowing through the fake cotton snow, they were hanging from Rudolph’s antlers, and there were twenty-four hidden in the Christmas tree itself. Mostly that was my doing: Little men falling off branches, other little men swinging from ornament to ornament to rescue them. There was only one rule: no fighting. This season was a time of peace and happiness the world over, so it would be in their world too G.I. Joe and Cobra weren’t enemies at Christmas.

Since then the eight figures grouped around the manger have become somewhat of an honor guard, there for old time’s sake. The remaining guys are hidden in the Christmas tree, scaling tinsel, or parachuting from the angel on top. We have almost as many figures on the tree now as ornaments.

G.I. Joes, celebrating Christmas, and protecting the Son of God – with grenades if necessary.

Merry Christmas,
-tom


recommended download:
Veggie Tales, Feliz Navidad