Our First Christmas

I always get mixed feelings this time of year; I mean, I’m partial to all the Jesus stuff; after all, He is what all the fuss is about.

 

But I also like Santa, the lights, decorations; and the Christmas music, too, now that it's 2 days from Christmas, rather than Thanksgiving.  I won’t turn down any of those yummy Christmas goodies, enjoy plastering my walls with Christmas cards, especially the old fashioned snail mail ones, and get a kick out of many Christmas movies too. "White Christmas", anyone?

But I don't like egg-nog. Not sure why. It looks okay, but it got that nasty “egg” word in it. And I don't like those nasty ‘ol eggs. It’s a minor OCD, I realize, but if 'egg' is contained somewhere in the name, it goes nowhere near my mouth. Even if it isn’t; i.e. eggplant.  Yuck. Of course, I’m also aware how terribly inconsistent this this phobia is, as eggs are used in all kinds of things I do like, like cakes and cornbread and cookies. So yeah, it’s a weird obsession. Okay, so I’m a weird dude. Deal with it.  I also don't like the malls, the crowds, and over-commercialization. I sometimes can’t ignore the temptation to over eat or the over-zealous few who insist on spoiling the season for everybody else.

Heck, I don’t care if somebody wants to celebrate Buddha, Muhammad, secular humanism, trees, unicorns or even Madalyn Murray O'Hair. I don’t care if they treat the day as any other day. Go ahead; knock yourselves out. Please. Use a hammer. Hahha. Not funny, I know. And I’m only kidding anyway. But please stop raining on everybody else's parade. Most Americans like Christmas and a majority use the day to celebrate the birth of Christ, even though most know December 25^th isn’t actually His birthday. Most concede He was probably born sometime in the spring. But it doesn’t matter; that’s the date Christmas has been observed around the world for centuries. So chill out. Keeping Christmas isn't a crime, misdemeanor or an infringement on anyone's rights.

 

Oh, but it is a Federal Holiday. So have a cup of egg-nog and shut the hell up! 

But besides all that stuff, December also makes me think of Amy and about our very first Christmas. We’ve been married for 18 Christmas’s now. But the one before we got married is probably the most special; that was our first as a couple and the Christmas on which we got engaged.

We began casually dating in June of 1992. But as that summer changed to fall, our relationship, to my everlasting amazement, had begun to deepen. We were certainly spending an awful lot of time together, anyway. My once vacant date-book was suddenly full, with outings like blackberry picking on a Sunday afternoon, an evening riverboat cruise on the Sacramento River, ballgames, movies, hanging out and making out. Lots of making out.

Though the calendar was busy, life stopped being complicated anymore. It all began to make more sense, and once it took, the relationship became easy, too.  But not in a loose or immoral way. I mean before, I had to work so hard just to get a girl to like me only to have all my hopes and dreams fall through anyway. With Amy, though, everything just seemed to come together; naturally and without any extra assistance from me at all. It all just fit. All I had to do was show up and be. And as she and I became "us", it was like it was all meant or supposed to be. It’d been years and years since a relationship had felt that way. But really knowing it was that way was both freeing and comforting.

As we moved into love, everything in life seemed to become so much more enjoyable, too. Like Christmas. Before Amy, Christmas was often such a chore. And finding or seeing or feeling the real meaning of Christmas? Fogettaboutit. Never saw it, hardly ever even accidentally bumped into it. I never put up lights or a tree or decorations of any kind, either. Why bother? I was either working or sleeping or avoiding contacting anyone else's aggravating Christmas cheer.

 

And work was always so crazy- the radio biz always is in December because that's where a good chunk of ours yearly income projections are met. But with all the commercials we had to produce and play leading up to December 24 plus all the long stressful hours to hit deadlines, finish countless projects and sound 'merry' on the air, by the time Christmas rolled around it was like an unwanted guest overstaying its welcome. I was glad to see it gone.

But to make sure I caught the holiday spirit during that first Christmas together, Amy surprised me one night by showing up at the house with a small tree. She also came with some bright balls and lights and, together, we trimmed this little tree and made my otherwise un-festive living room quite the opposite. It was the first Christmas tree I'd had in my own place of residence since I'd been away at college.

However, for so many years the worst part of the holidays had been not having anybody special to spend them with. While everyone around me always seemed happy and joyful- and paired off- I was usually walking around alone and under a December gloom that seemed to follow me everywhere. So, suffering miserably through this annual condition I avoided parties and gatherings like the plague. But that year, not only did I happily attend my own work party- with Amy- I happily went to hers too. What a difference it was, getting all dressed up for those once-annoying functions and actually looking forward to and enjoying them.

And always being one of those guys who waited till Christmas Eve before getting around to doing my obligatory shopping for family- avoiding it as long as possible- the Christmas I got engaged was the year I couldn't wait to get out and hit the stores. I have to confess, I wasn’t quite as thoughtful on family gifts as I’d been in years past, though. I put almost all my energy and shopping time into finding just the right gift(s) to bestow on my special new love. I went all over the place, back and forth all over town. But for the first time in a long, long time, I actually enjoyed the process. I got a kick out of rubbing shoulders with half the County out on their own holiday shopping quests, too. It was fun, like looking for buried treasure and actually coming up with it! Who knew?

 

But the best gift was still to come.

I asked Amy to marry me on Friday, Christmas Day, 1992, though I didn't actually make up my mind to do so until the night before. I mean, I kind of knew she'd say yes whenever I got around to asking. The topic had sort of come up indirectly. But I think I'd be forgiven if a tiny shadow of doubt still lingered in the back of my head. After all, I hadn’t had much success with the opposite sex. I had so little faith in myself, to delay any possible rejection I thought about not bringing the issue up till her birthday in January- or maybe even Valentine’s Day, three weeks after. Or maybe my birthday in April. That'd give her more time to know if she really, really, really liked me. And more time for me to work up the nerve.

 

But after dinner at her parent’s house on Christmas Eve, on the drive home I decided to go for it. Nothing seemed different or special; there were no premonitions, it didn’t seem like I was in a state of now or never, either. But heading home under the stars on that peaceful Christmas Eve night, for whatever reason I felt a peace came over me that the time was right and this time. I couldn't talk myself out of it.

I had to work the sign-on shift at KNCO Christmas morning. We all worked holidays back then, there were no computers or automation. But these were just "show-and-go" days; do your show and go. No production time, meetings, copy writing or anything else. And a holiday air shift wasn’t normally a huge time commitment- not more than 5 or 6 hours. I was doing Christmas Day 5-10 a.m. shift, which would give me the entire rest of the day free afterwards.

 

Amy wanted us to share Christmas breakfast together, though, so she offered to bring something and we’d eat there in the studio. It was a great idea, as my stomach had been rumbling and turning over on itself from the moment I for up, not only from hunger, but nerves. Food certainly wasn’t going to hurt. 

True to her word, at 7:15, as the sun came up on a calm peaceful Christmas morning, Amy arrived with two paper plates of fresh made pancakes and sausage and biscuits. And, between stopping to play, cue up or announce another record every three to four minutes, we ate our breakfast and exchanged our first Christmas gifts, in the most unlikely of places, the control room of KNCO Radio. However, there was still the issue of 'the proposal'.

Not sure how exactly I was going to pop the question, after I got to work I decided to improvise. Instead of writing out what I wanted to say and then say it, I decided to bury the question in a hastily written ‘love’ story. I’d let her read it and figure it out. There wasn’t much of a plot or storyline- I only had a few minutes to do it- but sketched out a tale of two love sick kids from long ago with enough of a narrative she’d get the picture; they lived happily ever after, etc., etc. Then I stuck it in an envelope and shoved it strategically into the bottom of her Christmas stocking of goodies. 

Of course, without naming names, the male character in this mini-epoch was me, she, naturally, was the chick. But as Amy got to the part where boy and girl "lived happily ever after", she just looked up at me and asked, "So?" Before answering I had to announce another song on the radio. But after I’d closed the mic again, I continued to hem and haw, clearly stalling. I finally asked her point blank if she got the drift or not.

 

“Yeah…So?”  Crap. This wasn’t working very well. Is that all she’s gonna say? So?  

Apparently so.

 

I thought, without saying it, I’d made myself perfectly clear. But what Amy was saying, without saying it, was that if I wanted an answer to my question I’d have to phrase it better. Like in my own words; then look her in the eye and actually say them. Damn!  As hard as I hoped I could find the point of least resistance, she was going to make me do it the hard way and get to the point. A scratched out proposal hidden in a silly little story wasn’t going to cut it. She was going to make me do it the right way. Damn! 

So, producing an opal ring- my mother's opal engagement ring, which she'd had given me years before for just such an occasion- though I didn't get down on a knee, I capitulated and forced the following words out of my mouth: "Will you marry me?" Fortunately, instead of saying so?, this time Amy answered, "Yes!"

When my air shift ended at 10:00, we dashed back to her parent’s house to make our first official engagement announcement. And so Amy show off her ring. It was clearly too big for her petite finger, but would do in a pinch. (The next day, we went down to Beitz Jewelers and I let her pick out an engagement set more to her style and liking). Darrell and Carol didn't seem terribly surprised at our news- I guess they figured it was going to happen sometime- but they were also very happy for us. 

Then we had to leave to make Christmas lunch at Steve's house, with my side of the family. I was dying to tell somebody there, especially Mom, who’d made it clear over the years how she doubted this day would ever come. After the gift exchange, I told her I had one more present for her. It was a tiny box with a simple note inside that read, "For Christmas this year, you're getting a new daughter". It took a couple beats for it to register, but when Amy flashed the ring on her finger, Mom knew. I thought she was going to cry. I didn't, but wanted to. As the last person on Earth my mother ever thought would find a mate, it made my heart burst getting to show off Amy's hand that afternoon. "Look, Ma. Somebody loves me!"

So it was a great day for me.  A Christmas to remember, that's for sure. 

Five months later, on May 29, 1993, Amy and I tied the knot. And every Christmas since, pancakes or link sausages- or both- are part of the breakfast menu. It helps preserve the memory of our very first Christmas morning, the day Amy and I transitioned from two distinct individuals into one happy couple.

 And just as the story was written, they lived happily ever after.