CHRISTMAS 1984

I’ve been alive for many Christmases but 1984 is the one that will never be forgotten.

It was our first California Christmas and it was suppose to be part of a dream, but it was more like a nightmare that seemed to have no end.

My family arrived in California on September 1st. I found a job, my husband found a great job, my girls met new friends and began school, and we contracted to have a home built for us high up on a hill.

On October 8th, the crumbling began when I rushed my husband to the E.R. in the middle of the night. He was having a heart attack. He was 42 years old; his father died at 40 years old with Coronary Artery Disease.

Forget that he lost his job, we lost the house along with our down payment, the car broke down, the house flooded, one daughter was suffering with a nasty eye infection and we had no medical insurance.
Forget all that.

On Thanksgiving we were giving thanks that he had lived through a 5-way by-pass surgery and was home with us recovering. We were also thankful that the community we’d lived in for less than 3 months adopted us as their “Needy Family” and supplied us with everything we needed to have a tasty, happy Thanksgiving dinner.

I was our only means of support and rent and food was about all I could handle.

It broke my heart to tell my girls there would be no gifts under the tree that year. Their accepting and loving reactions just tore me apart, I was so proud of them in that moment.

One week before Christmas I received a large envelope full of well wishes from the many friends I had made while working back east in a local hospital ER.
There was money enclosed; dollar bills, five dollar bills, tens and twenties.
I was stunned.
I sat with their notes and money falling out of my hands and I sobbed.
I read each note over and over and remembered the friendship I’d had with each of these giving people. I’d worked with them, laughed and sometimes even cried with them and here they were, right there with me…..giving.

There was over $500 in cash.
I didn’t tell my girls about the money.
I knew what each of them had wanted from Santa that year, way before our nightmare began.

On the night before Christmas we went to mass.
I wasn’t sure what I was going to make for dinner when we got home.
Something quick and easy; maybe grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup.

I flicked on the lights when I walked in the front door and to my shock, surprise, amazement and delight, standing with huge smiles was the most beautiful sight I could imagine…FAMILY!
My husband had an aunt and three cousins who lived two hours from us. And there they all were; aunt, cousins, mates and kids just standing there in the dark, waiting to surprise us when we opened the door and THEY DID!
They brought dinner and little gifts for my girls.
It was a beautiful evening.
For a teeny while we forgot the dark cloud that seemed to loom over us and we ate, talked, laughed, hugged and shared an evening my family will never forget.

On Christmas morning, I was the first to wake.
I put on The Beach Boys Christmas Album as I’d done every Christmas morning since they were little girls. It always woke them up and they’d come barreling down the stairs to the tree and all the magic.

That morning I loved seeing the expression of surprise, delight and confusion on those four faces as they appeared sleepy-eyed from their bedrooms.
There were four gifts under that tree from Santa.
I’ll never forget those gifts; a portable sewing machine, a telephone in the shape of red lips, a make up table and a swinging wicker chair.

It makes my heart soft even now after all these years when I think of it.

For all the years I worked in that back east ER, a crazy friend of mine and myself organized “Needy Family” Christmases.
We adopted a family, knew their names, ages and Christmas dreams.
The ER docs were always generous with money donations and we bought food, food and more food for our families.
Sometimes even our patients felt the spirit and donated.
Hospital employees brought gifts for all the kids and we filled up bag after bag of wonderful wrapped surprises.

On the night before Christmas we knocked on their door…my goofy friend dressed as Santa and me as his helper.
The children’s faces lit brighter than the lights we saw on their tiny tree when we began to unload a car FULL of gifts.
They danced around the room singing and laughing.
That scene was repeated year after year and each time Santa and his Elf drove away, there were tears to wipe from their eyes.

I’ve heard what goes around comes around and I don’t always believe that but Christmas 1984 was the year for me that what went around came around and believe me, humbling didn’t even begin to describe what it felt like to be the receiver that year rather than the giver.

Merry Christmas My Friends.