Blog

Aug 30, 2023

Artist Quajay Donnell made his son drive

We do remarkable things for the kids we care about in our lives. As parents,

We do remarkable things for the kids we care about in our lives. As parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, we’ll go to great lengths — especially around the holidays — in the name of love and providing happiness, and there's nothing wrong with that.

There was one Christmas I found myself climbing the warehouse rack in the toy section of a Walmart. You might ask why I would do something so rash and unsafe. Because tucked away at the top was a Dora the Explorer kitchen. For my daughter, it was the most important thing on her list.

I had searched far and wide for weeks and kept coming up empty. When I spotted it, there was no way I was going to find an associate to help because I couldn't take my eye off of it and risk not having it under the Christmas tree. Once it was in my hands, I slung it over my shoulder because I didn't even want to chance losing it in a crowd to another eager customer by going to fetch a shopping cart. I carried this large box awkwardly through the store, struggling to get to a register because, to me, that's what Santa had to do.

It's what Santa had done for me when I was a kid too. Growing up in Paterson, New Jersey, my mom worked at Toys R Us seasonally in the 1980s as a second job for extra income and discounts. As a single mom, she wanted to make sure I had all the things that I wanted. And when I woke up Christmas morning, there were GI Joes, Hot Wheels and Legos galore.

Every year, there was a full tree. I’d play until I passed out and then play some more. As a kid, I loved Christmas.

As a parent, though, I thought that Christmas had to be easier than that year in Walmart. By the time my third child was born in 2008, I thought the internet was going to make Christmas shopping a lot easier.

The Fry Guy, as we affectionally call him, didn't always make it that stress-free. He has always challenged my wife and me to think outside the box in the best ways since the day he was born, teaching us so much along the way. You see, he's on the autism spectrum and marches to the beat of his own drum. It's something I really admire about him.

There was one time we were talking and I had said to him that something was wrong. He responded, "No, Daddy, it's just different." And it's that difference in his lens that makes the world experienced with him so magical and special for those that know him.

When most kids wanted the hottest toys around, he wanted letter puzzles, number flash cards, educational magnets and every variation of the "Chicka Chicka Boom Boom" book. There was one year Santa had to find Russian letters because he had learned about them watching YouTube and wanted to have some to play with, too.

Over the years, there were a lot of Christmas requests inspired by watching a video or a television show. One year, he watched this video clip over and over that showed the tail end of a military funeral, where everyone was gathered in a cemetery. It's not something you’d think a child would be fascinated by, but the Marine in his dress blues somberly playing the bagpipes was intriguing to him. So, when we asked what he wanted for Christmas, he reminded us of that video and said, "This," referencing everything about that Marine. So, Christmas morning under the tree Santa brought a uniform and the Fry Guy had his very own bagpipes so he could emulate the serviceman he had become fond of.

Through that early part of his life, he had generally been asking for things that Santa could find somewhere. Well, that was until he turned 7. We had sat down with him, and presented the age-old question, typically around September or October: "What do you want Santa to bring you for Christmas?"

I’m not sure what I thought he was going to say that year, but I know we weren't expecting him to respond with, "A drive-thru."

"You know, like the windows, the menus, the speaker and all that stuff," he said.

I know what a drive-thru window is. You know what a drive-thru window is. But how were we going to get a drive-thru window for Christmas?

I mean, the kid's nickname is the Fry Guy, so he's been through a few fast-food drive-thrus to test out the fries on their menu, for quality assurance of course. At some point, he had become intrigued by its function. How you looked at a menu and placed your order over an intercom, then paid at one window and picked up at another. That may seem mundane to us, but there was a bit of a nuance in the process to him. He would comment if they didn't greet you with, "Hi, may I take your order," scolded us if we didn't say, "Thank you," and would notice the time it took from window to window. It's not as if we were at a fast-food restaurant daily, but he knew and paid close attention to the details. So, when someone this locked in said, "I want a drive-thru for Christmas," the pressure was high.

I thought to myself, "This can't be the first kid that asked for a drive-thru." So, I turned to the internet thinking I could just order something from the North Pole that would arrive at our door, maybe with minimal assembly required.

You may have more luck on the internet now, but in 2015 that search turned up nothing. Each time we hit a dead end, we found ourselves trying to do as most parents often do. We redirected the request. "That's not what you really want, right?" I recall us saying.

But for the Fry Guy, that doesn't work. When he sets his mind to something, you can't change it, and he wanted a drive-thru window.

"I don't know why this is so hard to understand," he said. "Daddy, don't worry, Santa can make it in his workshop."

After the 30 seconds of silence lifted from the air, my wife turned to me and said, "Yeah, I guess Santa can make it in his workshop."

I gave her a look. I had questions, and there were no answers. I needed to understand who Santa was, and where was this workshop.

By the time the 24th had arrived, and still no luck on the internet and no change in the Fry Guy's request, we went forward with the loose plan we had in place. Yeah, Santa can sometimes be a bit of a procrastinator but performs best when on deadline. I kept thinking to myself, "How did we get ourselves into this mess with a goal so complex — to deliver the impossible?" It felt like the night before a big school project was due, and I was certain we were going to get a failing grade. Would Christmas morning come and Santa not be able to deliver the gift at the top of the list? This time there was no warehouse rack I could climb to save the day.

There was only a rather large arts and crafts project ahead that had to work. There was so much cutting, printing and gluing. As work wrapped up for the night, we turned off the lights and lay down, hoping it was all good enough.

No sooner had my head hit the pillow and my eyes closed than they opened again. There was activity in the hallway and I could hear those small feet outside my door before it swung open.

"Mommy, Daddy, it's Christmas."

Oh, we knew.

I don't know if I had ever been that nervous before or since. There were only about six steps on the stairway from our upper floor to the living room, but when I looked down it felt like 600. We stood there for what seemed to be an eternity. Descending into the lower level meant that that drive-thru window had to be there and had to live up to his expectations.

Finally, when the Fry Guy got to the bottom of those stairs, his head panned to the left to where the Christmas tree and all the presents were. His eyes lit up and with a smile clear across his face he said, "There it is. Santa brought me the drive-thru window."

There it was, under the Christmas tree like magic. I wouldn't say it was an elaborate or even well-crafted drive-thru, but somehow it was exactly what he wanted. It had the menus to all of his favorite places and a window where he could serve his customers.

He ran over, so excited. His head popped up in the opening and he pressed down on the intercom, leaned into the mic and said, "Hi, may I take your order?"

My wife bent down just a little, "Can I have a latte, please."

"$6.58, thank you, next window," and he was officially open for business.

Like I said, we do some remarkable things for the kids we love. On that Christmas, Santa brought a drive-thru window to my living room.

Quajay Donnell is a staple in Rochester's local creative community through his photography and exploration of public art. He was among six storytellers in the holidays-themed Rochester Storytellers Night on Nov. 16 at Comedy at the Carlson. Watch the video of his drive-thru story athttps://bit.ly/3FFIzi6.