Two Kinds of Christmases

It was an ordinary day.  I was raised during the 1940s in Lincoln Park, Michigan which is a suburb of Detroit.  My dad always said, "Michigan has winter and July."  We had our share of snow in the long, cold winter, and mosquitoes and lightening bugs in the summer.  At our house, we kids were always sent out on some errand on Christmas Eve.   Upon returning, we were informed that we had "just missed Santa" and "Look at the presents Santa left!" We never believed Mom, of course, but we let her have her fun.  In 1950, when I was 9 years old, my 12-year-old brother, Art, and I and two friends were sent out on Christmas Eve to sing carols in the neighborhood.  The weather was mild that night with so many stars that they provided a glowing atmosphere for a special experience.  Everything was quiet and still with just a little snow on the ground.  As we sang our carols, a soft, gentle snow began to fall, and we could feel the Christmas spirit in the air.  It was a perfect, magical Christmas Eve - just like in the movies.  It was like a fantasy!  The spirit of that holy night was felt deeply and never forgotten.  That same Christmas, when we came home after caroling, there was a pile of white figure skates under the tree for me - it was just what I wanted.  Detroit was extremely cold that New Year's Day when my dad took me to a large park some distance from home where there was a frozen pond especially for skaters. I was so excited. I skated around and around that pond and counted my falls while I learned.  I fell a memorable 30 times in 30 minutes, but it was so much fun!  Then the icy weather chased us home.  Art got black hockey skates to play hockey with his friends on local ponds.   One day he took my white figure skates and found that he could maneuver much better with them, so he kept asking to borrow them.  No way!  I didn't want scuffs on my new white skates.  We didn't know then that it was our last winter in Michigan.  We moved to San Diego, California the following summer, in July 1951.  Dad was from a dairy farm in southern Indiana and had lived in Detroit for 14 years, mostly working for the Ford Motor Company through WWII.  He got the flu that last winter in 1950 and said that now was the time to leave Michigan.  He yearned for warmer climates.  Our house was sold in June, and we packed our home-built trailer for California.  Mom kept delaying our departure, so we remained awhile with her family in Ludington, Mich., to say our goodbyes.  We stayed there for the Fourth of July parade, but it was so cold that the girls on the floats, dressed in bathing suits, were covered with goose bumps.  We wore our heavy winter coats.  That day Dad declared, "That's it!  We are leaving tomorrow"  And we did!  Michigan had winter for sure, but sometimes it seemed like it didn't even have July.  I never got to use my skates again, but I never forgot that special time.  We drove West across the country through farms, fields, plains and towns, and across rivers, mountains and deserts.  My mother had a strong fear of heights, so the hardest part for her was crossing the Sierras at Donner Pass.  We arrived in Glendale, California at Mom's brother's house about 10 days later, just in time for the birth of their third child.  After another 10 days, Dad had a job in San Diego with the aerospace industry.  We settled in the eastern foothills of San Diego County, built a house, and adapted to a whole new world that had mountains, sunshine, warmth, a horse and even an ocean.  Wow!  And we thrived. After I was grown and married, in the 1960s and '70s, we celebrated Christmas Day in our home with our two daughters, often with their many aunts, uncles and cousins in attendance.  It was usually rather balmy, so we warmed up the pool to enjoy afternoon swimming for kids and adults alike.  That generations's experiences were quite different from my early memories of the world of Michigan snow.  But life in California sun was also great, and it provided many different memories for all of us.  I am grateful that I had the best of both worlds.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.