By Katy M. Clark

"Feeeeed the woooooorld. Let them know it’s Christmas time!” I sing aloud in the car.

Unimpressed, my teenage daughter questions, “Why is that even a Christmas song?” 

Amidst the tunes of glad tidings and joy, it is a bit odd to sing about famine in Ethiopia.

I explain how Bob Geldof mobilized the biggest pop stars of the ’80s to perform this song, using MTV to spur everyone, including a young teen in Arizona (me!), to help.

I recount purchasing the 45 record, “Do They Know It’s Christmas?” by Band Aid with proceeds going to relief efforts. Then I remind her what a 45 record is and promise that MTV was relevant.

During Christmas in the 1980s, I spent hours flipping through catalogs to find my dream gifts, circling what I wanted in the ToysRUs Big Book or Sears catalog.

One year, I wanted a Cabbage Patch doll. My mom had to physically go to a store, stand in line, and do her best impression of a linebacker to procure one. Imagine that, a world without Amazon Prime.

I loved visiting the mall at Christmas, brimming with shoppers and decorated to the hilt. When I was little, my mom would take me there to see Santa. As a a teen, I still waved at Santa while shopping for stirrup pants at Express, eating sausage samples at Hickory Farms, and buying cassettes at Sam Goody.

Christmas in the ’80s meant every gift was wrapped in wrapping paper. Gift bags did not exist. Grandma yelled if I ripped the paper when opening a gift because she carefully saved wrapping paper to reuse, year after year. Also yarn ribbon, like Raggedy Ann’s hair, was re-used for bows.

“Who’s Raggedy Ann?” my teen questions.

Moving on, I tell my daughter how I baked cookies from recipes written by my grandma’s hand, rather than ones found on TikTok. I still prefer them to anything online. I tell her I will pass them on to her one day.

After baking, I watched Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, A Charlie Brown Christmas, and John Denver with The Muppets. It required effort, flipping through the TV Guide, to find the show’s air date and time, and make sure I parked in front of the TV to watch it the one time all season it aired. There was no DVR or streaming service!

Just then “Frosty the Snowman” comes on the radio. I look at my daughter, who smiles back at me.

“I know this one, Mom,” she says, and we sing the classic together.

Next time Taylor Swift’s cover of “Last Christmas” plays, I’ll tell my daughter why the Wham! version is the best. Because it’s from the ’80s, of course. 

Katy M. Clark is a writer and mom of two who embraces her imperfections on her blog, Experienced Bad Mom. This article was originally published by Your Teen for Parents, the premier resource for parents of teenagers.