Everything but three ships

Merry Christmas. To you and yours, from me and mine. If you don't observe the holiday, I apologize for the salutation but not the sentiment. As I've gotten older, I've discovered there are many different customs and beliefs, but I've realized they aren't mine and I don't care.

And based on how my life has gone for 56 Christmases, I don't need snow or frosty weather or sparkling lights and boughs of holly or gift wrap and holiday cards--though all of those are very nice and help complement a contented and contemplative state of mind. I've spent a lot of this year getting sick, and less time getting well and realize I'm rounding the curve in the road where the ratio rarely evens out, so I'm grateful for the love of a woman for thirty-one years of marriage who promised to love me in sickness and in health, though neither of us thought either of those circumstances included Norwich, CT. Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans.

I'm filled with gratitude beyond words for the presents of the presence of our two children, Patrick and Michelle. From the memories of walking the floor of the delivery room in Central Germany with a newborn while I sang "I've Been Working on the Railroad" for hours on end, to holding my infant daughter, her feet in my hand and her head in the crook of my arm as she clicked her tongue just moments after being born. He is 26-she is 21 and they are both used to their old man dissolving in a puddle of tears and smiles as I talk about them growing up, as if somehow they had missed it.

The adults they have each grown to be are as wonderful and extraordinary as the children who blessed my life when I so needed those blessings. Through a move from the only culture and language that all three, my two children and my wife, had known to the rocky near seacoast of Southeastern Connecticut, to a people and lifestyle unlike that of my childhood. We have exchanged many gifts over many years among ourselves--and as German families do, we opened our presents last night.

Today, the first Christmas, is for family and we are all together as, too, I hope you and yours are, no matter the distance or time. Tomorrow, the second Christmas as the Germans call it (the Brits call it Boxing Day which may go some way in explaining how they colonized and subjugated the planet two hundred years ago) is usually a time for visiting with friends--the phone will ring often in our house as my wife reconnects with those from her previous life, wishing them well for the coming year, knowing that our chances of getting together anytime, soon or otherwise, is very limited. And also knowing we have given each other the best we have, ourselves. Merry Christmas.
-bill kenny