Christmas

Christmas is my favorite holiday, and not just for the obvious reasons.  The meaning of Christmas seems to evolve every year.  Some of my fondest memories are the early mornings, dragging my parents out of bed and running into an over crowded living room with my three siblings.  Santa always made four equal piles of impressive size and we begrudgingly took turns opening presents. 

Now, I look at Christmas through a completely different lens but still have the same ear-to-ear grin - but for different reasons.  For this blog, express when you found out about the truth of Christmas.  What is the meaning of Christmas?

Pike River Mine

Late October, 2005.  The remaining students vacated Rockwell and left the halls an eerie, desolate place.  All but a handful of permanent residents remained on campus and left the dorms untenanted, including the student store.  It’s been nearly two months since I met Mike and George, two Kiwis’ a few years younger than I; we’ve become good mates as it were and were planning on hijacking the school car after raiding the student store for provisions.  Road trip for fall break.

Driving in Europe is equivalent to throwing a football left-handed.  After taking a seat behind the wheel in what I normally deem “shotgun,” reaching up and across with my right arm to grab an imaginary seatbelt, and grabbing the door to shift into first, we speedily drove out to the main drag with a backseat full of crisps and Snicker bars.  First stop – Cork, about a two-hour drive.

One of the other teachers is originally from Cork and put us up for the night.  Being the oldest I had dibs on the couch.  Her family encouraged us to stay an additional night but we had made plans to rent surfboards in Galway.  Our night in Cork, while memorable, would be a footnote in one of the most enjoyable weeks of my life.

The drive along the west coast to Galway is scenic, a dream-like world full of ancient-old stone fences and vast fields of the richest green.  The scenery came and went much too fast – as did Ireland.  We ate lunch in haste in anticipation for surfing in the Atlantic.  After suiting up and snapping a few shots, we took to the cold ocean and paddled out to the surf.

I suck at surfing, but did manage a few waves.

The tidal change came as a surprise as did the peril of exiting the rocky shore.   In what seemed a matter of minutes, the natural rock steps leading out of the water on the elevated shore transformed from a thing of beauty to a gauntlet of crashing waves on resilient stone.  Mike’s ignorance nearly cost him his life.  I watched helplessly from above as he timed his endeavor in between waves.  We socialized over the feat and bragged over who was the best novice surfer.

My recollection of the remaining week is fading now.  My thoughts are full of lesson plans and household chores, bills to pay and calendar dates.  The only reason I strained my mind to recall that week was the Facebook reminder of Mike’s birthday.  I wonder how long I’ll receive reminders before his account is deleted.

You see, it was Mike who persuaded us to borrow the school’s car.  It was he who convinced me that despite receiving a parking ticket and tire boot in Northern Ireland, my teaching certificate wouldn’t be revoked.  Mike had the key to the student store and told me to live a little.  And after paying back the store and realizing the school would never catch wind of the ticket, we were left with memories of driving around one of the most scenic countries in the world, surfing and sharing a few laughs with friends who happened to be in the same place at the same time.

My only regret is that I didn’t take advantage of his offer to live with his family for a while after I graduated college.  Life is short.  I received his second birthday reminder from Facebook a few weeks ago and I hope that I continue to receive them for years to come.  The Pike River Mine accident last November, while occurring literally halfway around the world, stands as one of the most existential experiences of my life.  Rest in peace, mate.