Hippo Hero? I Don’t Think So!

Every year around this time, Christmas music invades the radio and the lyric “I want a hippopotamus for Christmas/Only a hippopotamus will do” floats from the speakers. But this is a living nightmare for me and it should be for you too.

The lyrics go on…

“I don't want a doll, no dinky Tinker toy/I want a hippopotamus to play with and enjoy.”

At the tender age of 10 years old, did Gayla Peevy know what she was doing when she recorded this soon-to-be hit classic in 1953? My guess is no. But ignorance isn’t bliss to those clueless kids who now add this dangerous beast to the top of their must-have-lists every December.

You may be asking yourself, ”Brandon, what is it that gets your feathers ruffled about such an innocent song?” I will put it plain and simple. I am scared of hippos.

“But why?” you ask.

This might take a minute to explain but stick with me. I love Jurassic Park.

“But those are velociraptors, Brandon. They’ve been extinct for millions of years.”

I know they no longer occupy a place on this Earth. BUT… In 1993, they were very much alive on the silver screen in the hit Steven Spielberg movie of the same title as the Michael Crichton book, Jurassic Park. A fan of dinosaurs for years, even though I was frightened, I was excited that these long-gone creatures came to life on film. I was ready to read anything and everything that Crichton released and continue to head back time and time again to visit with Mr. Spielberg in the darkened recesses of the cinema.

Also, for the record, I am still scared of velociraptors. Even the animatronics ones from themed parks.

That brings me back to high school study hall. I had gotten my hands on a copy of Congo. The characters jump off the page fighting with wild animals in this (let’s be honest) overwhelmingly mediocre book. That didn’t matter. It begged for my attention. I plowed through that novel in a few hours.

I was done with Congo. But Congo wasn’t done with me.

“Mom says the hippo would eat me up / But the teacher says a hippo is a vegetarian.”

I had no idea at the time how correct Mrs. Peevy was. How dangerous are these animals? I’ll point out that I’ve never had any personal interactions with hippos. It is true that they are herbivores. But still…

Based on the success of Jurassic Park, it seemed that every book that Crichton had written was being optioned for the screen. This included a laughable but wonderfully enjoyable adaptation of Congo. About half the movie passes, in the dead of night, where dozens of men and women are rafting down the river when… they’re attacked!

The waters rumble and churn. Boats are flipped over. People flail in a chaotic ballet of death and destruction as each is snapped in two or pulled down to the murky depths by – you guessed it – a bloat of hippos.

There have been a handful of movies that have changed my life: Citizen Kane, Back to the Future, Amadeus. And now… Congo.

“There's lots of room for him in our two-car garage / I'd feed him there and wash him there /And give him his massage.”

Chances are, even if this wild animal didn’t break through your flimsy garage door and trample the other neighborhood children, it would probably sense danger when you tried to rub up on it and violently ravage you to protect itself.

But I digress…

I came home and did my research. In a time before Wikieverything, I flipped through our encyclopedia set and read up on these creatures. While the movie was frightening, knowing what I know now (then), I was right to be afraid.

Do I own a copy of Congo on DVD? Absolutely. Should I not? Up for debate. It’s my family and friends who truly won’t let me forget the deep and enduring mark left on me by this terrifying movie.

You see, I’ve shared this same story with them. Instead of sympathy, it's met with jeers and laughter. On top of that, whether it be my stocking or in a neatly wrapped package under the tree, a bountiful bow sat on top, I am gifted a hippo icon of some kind.

My best friend Kristen’s mother, Cheryl, and my mom – I know she’s a talented artist but she’s more sadist than saint – are the main culprits.

“I can see me now on Christmas morning / Creeping down the stairs / Oh, what joy and what surprise / When I open up my eyes / To see my hippo hero standing there.”

This eerily prescient lyric echoed through the halls of my home nearly 50 plus years later. Every Christmas a different reminder of my fears is all but guaranteed.

Let’s go over a quick list of what I’ve been surprised with over the years.

• A plastic figurine, its mouth wide open and ready to attack with beady red eyes.

• A stress ball – one assumes to counteract the former.

• Soap.

• A potato chip clip.

• A jewelry holder adorned with Swarovski crystal.

The list goes on and on.

And, by the way, young Ms. Peevy, even in a cape, it’s hard to consider a hippo a hero.

“No crocodiles, or rhinoceroseses / I only like hippopotamuses / And hippopotamuses like me too”

They most certainly do not, Ms. Peevy, like you. Or anything else. (Except, perhaps, in their jowls or mouths agape…)

Before I go, I would like to present two counterpoints for your consideration.

Hippos are dangerous creatures. According to the internet, which we all know is digital gospel, the hippo is the most dangerous mammal on Earth, after only humans. They kill over 500 people a year. But their numbers have reached quadruple digits some years. Sharks barely dispatch a dozen people a year. While crocodiles reach hippo heights, rhinos might be a better pet as a gift. Just learn the proper pluralization of the word. (You were so close. It’s rhinoceroses.)

It’s Christmas. Let’s end on a positive note. This song actually saved a hippo. When the song became a hit, there was a fundraiser so that Gayla Peevy could be gifted an actual hippo for Christmas. It worked. This hippo was made comfortable in the city zoo and lived a happy, non-murderous life for the next FIFTY YEARS!

So… if instead of a White Christmas you’re dreaming of a holiday spent with the third largest land mammal, my recommendation would be to reconsider. After all, wherever would they sit at the dinner table?

~ Brandon L. Joyner

Christmas With the Cranks

Isn't it nice to be able to gather around the table on a holiday, share favorite foods, but also share wonderful memories, and to spend time with all the people we love most?

Fellowship with family and friends - how I look forward to those times and our gatherings at Christmas - are my favorite. The presents are nice but - ahhh - the food! If I never received another present - the food is present enough!

Our guests are really great cooks. Turkey and dressing, mac and cheese, rice and gravy, banana pudding, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie... to name a few!

Makes your mouth water, doesn't it?

Which brings me to the point of this blog.

It was Christmas and we had invited all our besties to help celebrate. All the food and desserts for placed on the island so we could all “help ourselves.” Everyone had brought so much food that all the dishes couldn't fit on the island so we had to put some items on the countertops.

Can you imagine?

We said grace and everyone was told to go through the line, help themselves, find a seat – and EAT! The aroma from all the homemade foods permeated the air and we could not wait to indulge!

We have waited for this all year, right?

We were all seated around the table when we spotted a white car pulling up out front. We all watched as three people got out of the car, collected their many dishes of food and presents, and started walking toward our house. Everyone at the table looked at each other and someone said, “Who are those people? We thought everyone was already here.”

“I have no idea who those people are,” I said.

Then, we heard someone open the front door and walk in.

“Okay,” I thought to myself, “I must be wrong since they hadn't rung the doorbell and were walking right inside!” We all turned around toward the foyer. We were staring into the faces of three people who had never seen before. We all stared, frozen. Then my husband stood up and greeted them, “Hey, guys. Come on in!”

One of them said, “Oh, I think we're in the wrong house. We were looking for a white house, spotted this one and thought we were at the right one.”

My husband said, “Well there's another white house about three houses down on the same side of the street. That must be the one you are looking for, but you are welcome to stay and share our meal because your food smells mighty good.”

We all laughed. We laughed and laughed about our “unexpected” guests and how the expressions on their faces were priceless as they realized they had just walked into a total strangers’ home. But, we could all see how embarrassed they were. They said that they thought they would head on down the street to the correct house cause their family would be waiting for them, but thanks for the invite.

They took the food and presents, packed them up again in the car, and drove on down to the next white house. When they left, we figured it all out - we had just had our house painted – WHITE! That's the reason they were confused about which house to go to. After all, what more could we have asked for then to celebrate it with our loved ones... and maybe a few extra “unexpected” guests?

~ Jeannie Joyner