A collection of people's thoughts about Christmas

1. 1971

I never thought that I would see a Christmas like this one.

Our little boy – our Jerry with the boyish grin, our Jerry with big hazel eyes, like his mommy’s – won’t be coming home for Christmas.

In a way, it’s been a thousand years ago and a day ago that we received “The Visit.” If I live to be a hundred, I will never forget the terror in my heart when I saw those officers at the door. And the funeral – the most heartbreaking day of my life. “From a grateful country,” they said when they handed us the flag. What grateful country? They’re all too busy with their riots and “peace” marches. They don’t care about our boy.

I don’t know what we’ll do this Christmas. It’s only a week away, and we haven’t even put up the tree yet. I don’t want to. I don’t want to have to look at his Baby’s First Christmas, 1951 ornament, or the silver glitter ball he made in second grade, or the family picture he drew in junior high.

None of us have anything close to the “Christmas spirit.” Even Jenny – and she loves Christmas. Jana just looks out the window all day. She doesn’t even talk to me now. Jason is always in his room.

This Christmas will probably be our family’s hardest. No one expects to outlive their children. But by the grace of God, we’ll make it through.

2. 1983

My first Christmas all alone. I never thought it would come to this. Jana’s out west with her kids, and Jason’s stuck in Maryland. And Jenny’s not going to decorate the tree this year.

I don’t think I’ll celebrate Christmas this year. What’s to celebrate? Jerry’s been gone for ten years already, Jana and Jason are on opposite sides of the country, and Jenny-

Jenny died on a sunny September afternoon. In a way, I can’t believe she’s gone. I keep expecting her to come in with groceries or some craft ideas. Every morning I wake up and expect to see her sitting on the side of the bed with her Bible. And every morning I wake up and she’s not there.

I know my kids tried to be here. But Monty and Jenny – our little Jenny, with Grandmommy’s beautiful smile – have the chicken pox, and Jason’s flight was canceled thanks to the worst snowstorm the East Coast has seen in twenty years.

They were such a help when I lost Jenny. Jason was in Chicago when it happened, and he was down here within an hour. Jana didn’t get here until late that night – but I know she tried. Now I’m all alone. I’ve never felt so alone in all my life. I really don’t know what I’m going to do.

I suppose I’d better get used to this. Doesn’t look like it’ll change. I guess I’ll move back to Chicago – not the same house, though. I could never do that. Too many memories of the two people I would give anything to have here.

3. 1999

I should have figured when I took this job that I’d have to miss a few Christmases. I just didn’t count on this. The first Christmas I could spend with the whole family – all 30 cousins, yikes! – and my sister, niece, and nephew. Good grief, I bet Monty’s already driving. Seems like just the other day I got the call at Ft. Meade that I was an uncle.

And here, of all places. Sorry, but Christmas isn’t Christmas to any full-blooded Whittaker unless there is snow – or at least a Christmas tree and that glass Nativity set – oh yeah, with the new angel, thanks to a certain adolescent. The only sign of Christmas around here is that annoying record that Don got from his grandmother. I mean, if you had to pick ONE Christmas record to send your grandson on the mission field in Uganda, why not pick “Away in a Manger” or “O Holy Night” or some other decent carol? Why on earth did she select “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus!?” Apart from such “classics” (yuck!) as “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer” and “I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas,” and the ever-popular “Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire,” it’s my least favorite. I mean, how mushy can you get?

I wish it would just get a little cooler – so we don’t have to drink 8 pints of water a day to keep from being dehydrated. It feels so strange to be wearing shorts on Christmas Eve.

Oh, yes! Don got another record! If only it could just be something tolerable…

This is just too much. Too much! Wouldn’t you know – she sent “Winter Wonderland.” Sorry, I can’t pass this up. I’ve taken the liberty of re-writing the words a little bit. My most sincere apologies to my English-teaching father!

My ears ring,
I can’t listen.
From the heat
Don’s forehead is glistenin’.
A hot, sweaty sight
Is everyone tonight,
Working in the desert in Uganda.
In the desert we can get dehydrated,
Unless lots of water we consume.
Finally the heat seems to have abated,
But it’s just because I got heatstroke, and I’m in the sickroom! (Sorry, I was desperate.)
All day long,
We perspire
As we hide
From the fire.
A disgusting sight
Are we tonight,
Working in the desert in Uganda!

Hey, no one ever accused me of being a poet.