Merry Christmas
Today, I've spent my Christmas catching up on my
sleep and relaxing. I woke up after 10:00, lazed
around the apartment for a few hours and then took
a long nap. I'm going to go catch a showing of
"Return of the King" a little bit later, and then
hit the sack early. About as uneventful a day as
one could imagine. But as overworked as I've been
lately, that's just fine with me. For my column
today, I thought I'd reflect a bit on some of the
past Christmases I've enjoyed (or not enjoyed).
The first Christmas I ever spent away from home
was twenty years ago, when I traveled to Honduras
as a foreign exchange student. I experienced many
"firsts" during that year-long adventure, including
the first time I've celebrated the holiday on
Christmas Eve (as seemingly most of the rest of the
world celebrates it) instead of Christmas Day. The
extended members of my host family got together for
a hearty meal and gift exchange, after which we all
stayed up well past midnight talking, singing and
enjoying each other's company. After the others
finally went to bed, I stayed out most of the night
with some of the other guys in the neighborhood,
who had found a bottle of potent aguardiente. As a
result, I spent part of Christmas morning on my
knees in the bathroom, but had a good time
nonetheless. I spent Christmas Day with a hangover,
watching the premiere of the "Star Wars" sequel
"Return of the Jedi." (As I write this, I am struck
by the coincidence of spending two Christmases
twenty years apart watching the third film of a
trilogy with nearly identical titles.)
Four years later, I enlisted in the Navy, and
didn't spend another Christmas at home with family
until I finished my tour of duty after another four
years. My first Navy Christmas was also my first
white Christmas, as I passed the holiday with a
bunch of other fools who had ended up in boot camp
in Great Lakes during the heart of winter. Icy
winds off Lake Michigan brought the temperature
down to -60 on some days, keeping us inside for
much of the eight-week indoctrination. My
recollection of boot camp is hazy (perhaps with
reason), but I seem to recall that I spent
Christmas Day in the hospital with chicken pox.
Whether my illness fell before, during or after the
holiday, however, one thing I do remember is that
Christmas was like all other boot camp days, except
that we might have had a few hours of private time
to write letters or read.
My last Christmas in the Navy found me on an
aircraft carrier bound for the Persian Gulf as part
of Operation Desert Shield (soon to become
Operation Desert Storm). Alcohol is forbidden on
U.S. Navy ships, but one of my shipmates had
managed to smuggle a bottle of vodka onboard. On
the evening of Christmas Day, a small group of us
sat around a table, drinking and playing cards. For
those few short hours, we felt like a group of
buddies back home, sitting around and enjoying
Christmas cheer, instead of sailors bound for war
somewhere in the western Pacific, hundreds of miles
from the nearest land.
Since then, my Christmases have become more
"normal," at least in the sense that I get time to
visit with family every year. However, some of my
siblings have their own families now, so we
celebrate the holiday as a family several days
before December 25 nowadays to give the others the
opportunity to have their own family Christmas on
the 25th. So I have now become one of those
millions of single adults who spend Christmas Day
alone, without anyone to celebrate with. I've
become used to it now, so I don't seek sympathy by
the admission. Instead, I want to illustrate the
fact that the holiday holds little magic for me
now. It's just another day. But for all of you who
may read this, I hope the spirit of Christmas
touched you and yours, and that Santa Claus brought
you lots of goodies. Merry Christmas!
©2003 Michael
Strickland ALL RIGHTS
RESERVED
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