Tickle Me Elmo was the hot holiday toy of 1996. Originally developed as a Tickle Me Taz (based on the Looney Tunes property), the technology was better suited for Sesame Street’s toddler-friendly character. As legend has it, the toy was doing well enough, but an appearance on Rosie O’Donnell’s daytime talk show sent its sales into the stratosphere, and the manufacturer couldn’t keep up with demand. That same year, a movie called Jingle All the Way was released starring Arnold Schwarzenegger and Sinbad in which a dad tries to get a toy for his son on Christmas. There had been other moments in history when one toy dominated the industry at the end of the calendar year (Cabbage Patch Kids, Teddy Ruxpin, Furby, etc.), but its popularity seemed to reach a peak in that holiday season of 1996, crystalizing both in pop culture (the movies) and practice (store shelves) the notion that one toy will be an absolute must-have each year for the holidays. The one that meant the most to me was the Nintendo.
Have you ever heard of Chiptune? It’s the type of music in old video game consoles like the NES (short for Nintendo Entertainment System) or Game Boy. Remember when you would blow into a cartridge, stick it into the machine, and press START? The music that plays is called Chiptune. The sounds can still take me back to Christmas Day. As I’m sure you can tell by now, I’m wildly nostalgic for my youth, so I have quite an attachment to old-school video games. One year for Christmas, my older brothers asked for an NES, and my parents scraped enough money together to get them one. It was the hot holiday item and the only thing they wanted.
Christmas morning 1989, we got up at 5:00 a.m., opened our gifts, and rummaged through stockings filled with M&M’s and Life Savers candies. I was happy with pretty much anything I got at that age.
“Mom, look what I got! I didn’t even want it!” I happily shouted after opening socks.
After all the gifts under the tree had been accounted for, Mom coyly told us, “I think Santa might’ve left one more present in the garage.” Parents always think they’re tricking kids with that one. The kids know the game they’re playing, but no one cares if it means another toy is on its way out. If you’re reading this and you’re a parent, just make sure that “one last present” is something fun and not socks.
Dad stood up amid the sea of discarded gift wrap and toy packaging and headed to the garage to grab a square box wrapped in reindeer paper. I wish I could insert the old home movie we have from that morning into this paragraph, but it’s probably for the best that I can’t because the shaky cam is worse than The Blair Witch Project. The tape also cuts between our old living room and an episode of All My Children because Mom used the VHS to record her stories.
To Bryan and Jr., From Santa, the tag said, in handwriting that was obviously my mom’s, but she’d capitalized every letter to throw us off the scent. My brothers ripped it open, hoping it would be the NES they wanted so badly. Once the controller was visible through the tear above the top hat and button eyes, the screams followed.
Horror-movie scream queens wish they could reach the decibel and power of a child’s yell when they open a video game system on a holiday. The energy in the room was electric. I was giddily playing with my 101 Dalmatians stuffed animals when the vibe shift happened. The NES wasn’t even something I knew about—I was four—but the happiness was contagious. It was like we all got a shot of espresso in our systems, dancing around the living room like that scene in Titanic when Leo and Kate lock arms and twirl. Mom and Dad were smiling from ear to ear.
Everything else took a back seat that day. Grandma and Grandpa would have to wait for their hugs, none of us cared about eating the lasagna and ham, and church was but a detour to getting in front of the TV where we could play Super Mario Bros., the revolutionary new game that came packaged in the box. Since it wasn’t technically a gift for me, I never got to hold the controller. Instead, I sat, legs crossed, and watched an 8-bit plumber jump from platform to platform, hopping on turtles and avoiding Bowser’s fiery attacks. It was love at first sight.
The graphics were mind-blowing, but without being able to play, I focused on the music in those first few moments with the Nintendo. The “da-da-da-da-da-dada…” wiggled its way into my brain almost immediately. Come December 25, most of us are trying to get “Jingle Bells” out of our heads, and somehow Super Mario was able to do it almost instantly, before even reaching the underworld of the next level. In fact, the only melody that could replace the intro music was the sinister tune of level two.
I wonder how many families were humming those tunes on Christmas morning that year. Countless kids connected the AV cords to their big-ass TVs and played until nightfall or until their parents sent them to bed so they could have a turn.
Before then, many households had the Atari system, playing games like Pong and Frogger, but the NES was the first to come with an earworm. That Mario theme is one of the most recognizable tunes of all time, something people across the world know almost immediately from the opening notes.
I wonder what it must’ve been like for musicians to hear that music for the first time. How many young people listened to the Mario melody and realized a whole new world was available to them? Music majors and classically trained violinists suddenly had a new career path, one that allowed them to mix the technological advancements of the ’80s with their love of music and traditional instruments. People who thought they wanted to be rock stars suddenly realized they could work in gaming, utilizing their music skills in a different way.
Koji Kondo is the brilliant mind behind that Super Mario Bros. theme, and he’s created some of the most memorable music in gaming ever since—like the NES Zelda theme, a haunting refrain that is just as beautiful as anything Beethoven ever composed.
Since that Christmas morning, I’ve heard the Mario music countless times. It’s reprised in other video games, and it’s also known to pop in my head at random when I’m grocery shopping or in the shower. When I like something, I tend to obsess, and there have been many sleepless nights I’ve spent on YouTube watching orchestral arrangements of video game themes from my youth. Eventually, I got my own turn with the controller, and when the Super Nintendo was released in 1991, I was ready for it. I was old enough to understand the mechanics, and Mario had become a friend to me like he became a friend to so many throughout the years. He’s there for the children who aren’t invited to the sleepovers, and he’s there for you when your parents are fighting in the other room, when the sounds of their voices are too much to handle. Before I knew what anxiety was, Mario, Luigi, Toad, and Princess Peach were there to help me deal.
Mario has been with us for so many holidays. In 1996, he showed up for the first time in 3D on the N64. In 2001, his brother, Luigi, took center stage for the launch of the GameCube. In 2012, he was there for a lucky few who managed to get their hands on the Wii for Christmas. And most recently, he came to me via UPS in the dark days of 2020, the first year I spent Christmas without my immediate family as COVID-19 kept us all apart. I cried and cried and cried for days leading up to that sad December 25, but the tears subsided when I opened a gift from Mom and Dad, a new Switch game starring my favorite man in red overalls.
And that’s the power these gifts hold. Gift giving may get harder as we all get older and find ourselves shopping for adults who have their own money to buy the things they want, but the experience of giving presents to kids is still just as fun and magical as it’s always been. When you give a gift to a child, you get to open their imagination, show them things they couldn’t see before, and give them a momentary reprieve from whatever they’re struggling with. Video game systems are expensive, and many people can’t afford to drop that kind of money on a gift for their kid, but children have imaginations that need encouragement. Whether it’s a brand-new NES or a box of crayons and a ream of construction paper, a gift that sparks creativity can be a lifesaver for young people who need help expressing how they feel or piecing together the emotions bottled up inside them.
There’s a scene in Mrs. Doubtfire where Robin Williams as Daniel Hillard, dressed as Euphegenia Doubtfire, is at a public pool with his family, watching a blouseless Pierce Brosnan splash around with his three kids and ex-wife. All the while, Robin sits at the bar in prosthetics and a dress under the hot San Francisco sun. It’s a low point in the film for the character, but he powers through because he realizes the only thing that means anything in life is the time we spend with our loved ones. Daniel Hillard is living his personal hell, but his hell is worth it for more time with the people he loves most.
Parents feel pressure to make the holidays perfect for their kids, to get every item on their wish list, the must-have toys of the season, to bake the best cookies, and to honor the yearly traditions. They work extra shifts, participate in layaway plans, and go to six different stores trying to get the best gift. It’s expensive and exhausting. If you’re reading this and finding you’re in the middle of the madness, stressed to the max and wondering how you’re going to make it to the other side of December, take a moment instead to recalibrate. Sure, your child may have a smile on their face as they open a new bike or a laptop computer. They’ll brag to their friends and spend the day playing with their shiny stuff. But the item isn’t as important as the feeling of love you create just by being with them.
The best part is the smiling, the playing together. That’s because the greatest gift you can give your children, or anyone for that matter, is your love. No one else can love like you can, so take the pressure off yourself and your wallet when it comes to the presents. If you have the funds to get the fancy toy and want to do it, go for it, but know that what is going to stick with your child in the end is the feeling of being loved and belonging to a family. When they’re eighty and looking back on their lives, they’ll remember being with you on the holiday. Be proud if you have a household filled with the love and togetherness that makes a home. Life is fleeting, so forget the rest. I give you permission.
Whenever I hear that old Super Mario music, I think about Christmas morning, surrounded by my loved ones in our tiny family unit. It’s a unit that expanded so much since then, with wives and partners, nieces and nephews coming into the picture. We’ve also lost loved ones, grandparents and cousins and a few exes along the way, each shift altering the dynamics. Those special gifts—the ones parents work extra hard to get—will always be a link to the memory of life. Years from now, they’ll be the thing that helps you trace back your todays to your yesterdays, so try and remember that as you’re shopping for your little ones. Even if you can’t put the fancy toy under the tree, the important thing is the feeling they have, so wrap them in your love, and know that even the most special presents are not as important as how you make them feel.