All I Want For Christmas Is…

The childhood gift of my dreams that I never, ever needed.

Christine Ramstad
May 18, 2016 · 2 min read

In December 2005 I found myself lost in a pile of catalogues — carefully circling in permanent marker the items I wanted for Christmas.

As I flipped through the glossy pages of toys and gadgets, something troubled me, a deep longing that I couldn’t replace with items from a catalogue.

I wanted bagpipes.

Everytime I blinked, I saw bagpipes. When I pictured my wedding, I heard bagpipes. When I pictured my funeral, I heard bagpipes. When I pictured what was at the end of the rainbow, I saw bagpipes.

I felt incomplete without a set of red, plaid bagpipes to call my own. Naturally, I expressed my concerns to Santa (my mom).

Fast-forward a few weeks and for some reason my mom actually purchased bagpipes for me.

On Christmas morning, I unwrapped my bagpipes.

The rest is a blank slate because:

1.) I never learned how to play my bagpipes. Dreams die quickly at 10 years old.

2.) I passed out after my first attempt to inflate and produce any sound on my bagpipes. There’s a reason you picture fat, Scottish men playing the ‘pipes and not underweight fifth graders.

Christine Ramstad for Royal Report


Hyperlocal news about Bethel (Minn.) University by journalism students. To contact editors, email or Tweet to @Royal_Report.

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