I grew up in a military family back in the days when being in the military wasn’t fashionable nor did it pay well.  As an enlisted man with five kids my father moonlighted all the time and around Christmas it never failed that he picked up a third job.

Reality was, we were poor, just like all the other military families of the time.  But, all the money in the world could not have recreated the joy, love, and excitment that I experienced as a child.  I remember one Christmas in particular, it had to be 1970 or 1971, which would have been right after my Dad’s last tour in Vietnam and we were in Frankfurt, Germany.  All five of us kids woke up to a Christmas Tree with gifts literally covering every inch of floor space in our living room.  Our family tradition was that all gifts were opened one at a time and we took turns.  Gift opening took hours that Christmas!

I remember, being at the age where I knew there was no Santa but still having to believe because of my younger sisters and brother, looking over at my Dad and there he was, sitting in his housecoat, his hair a mess and obviously having missed quite a few hours of sleep over the last month or so, and noticing that while he opened no gifts for himself, he was so full of joy and happiness. 

At the time I just realized that he was going to be really let down when he opened my gift becuase there was no way it was going to match what he and “Santa” had gotten me…

I marvel at that Christmas because there was no such thing as credit cards back then.  I got my first record player that Christmas.  It was a plastic portable record player where the speaker was actually the detachable top….and it only played 45’s.  The first record I played was Jay and the Americans, “This Magic Moment”  We were definitely a family that was blessed.  I can only imagine the scarifices my father and mother endured for their kids. 

When I was 2 we moved to Germany and lived on the local economy.  Thus, I went to a german kindergarten and ended up speaking no english (that was the early 60’s and when we played army it was Americans against the Nazi’s…and even I wanted to be a Nazi!  That was until my first of many trips to Dachau and finding out that I lost a great uncle and aunt in Dachau. ) 

So, we returned to the United States where I started the first grade in Texas and I was shuffled to the class with all the “slow” kids because english as a second language wasn’t offered back then.  I didn’t learn to spell my last name until I was in the third grade and by the fourth grade my Dad was drilling me and my younger by a year brillant sister on memorizing the multiplication table.  I cannot count the number of times I heard, “…God, you are so stupid…” and was dodging the deck of flash cards…

Then in the sixth grade I was “redeemed.”  A teacher recommended that my parents have my hearing checked and we found out that I suffered a severe hearing loss.  Whew!  I wasn’t slow after all but actually just couldn’t hear.  But because of my Dad I still can recite the multiplication table, I can name all fifty states and their capitals, and I can name all the countries of the world….and I can duck flying objects like a trooper!

When I played basketball it was always commented on how good my eye hand coordination was and I would always give my Dad credit for that! 

I cannot count the number of holidays we spent without my Dad or we spent waiting on him to return from base but there is a long history of burned dried out turkeys in my childhood.  I played basketball all the way through college and my Dad only made two of my games.  But I can still remember the day I was out on a playground shooting hoops and I look up and I see him walking toward to court….

Even though he took most of his shots from between his legs….he earned my respect.

Christmas has never been the same since he died and neither has my family.  They just don’t make men like him anymore….

Now to go and enjoy the present Christmas which would be meaningless without the memories of Christmas past.

Merry Christmas!