I grew up as a Navy Brat. I say that with pride. It was, I must admit, a pretty cool life. By the time I graduated high school I’d seen more of the country than most of my relatives back in Michigan (it was always “back” in Michigan). Michigan, of course, was that magical place of grandmothers, Tiger Stadium, and snow.
There was no snow for the Christmas of 1978. Certainly not in San Diego. Here’s what you have to know about the Navy side of San Diego: it is our largest West Coast naval base. It had the least number of housing units available.
We had just moved to San Diego from my beloved Washington state, where there are mountains, trees…and snow. When we pulled into the adobe apartment complex in San Diego, where my family would remain until Navy housing became available (never happened), I knew I was about as far from home as I’d ever be. No mountains. No trees. No snow. Did I mention I’d developed a love for trout fishing in Washington?
No trout.
Naturally, because the U.S. Navy has a wicked sense of humor, my dad’s ship, the USS Kitty Hawk, was scheduled to deploy late in the year. Yes, over Christmas. This isn’t unusual, of course. Our nation’s enemies rarely take a Christmas vacation. So neither can the big grey ships. However, we’d gotten a bit used to Dad being around. In Washington, he spent several years on shore duty, even attended college. We’d spent several wonderful Christmases in Port Orchard and Bremerton, either in a rental house or Navy housing, always surrounded by friends and Navy families.
The tiny apartment in San Diego, which had not seen snow from its windows in several thousand years, was a bit of a shock.
So there we were in December of 1978. My mom, me, and my almost two year old sister, Angela. Dad was a pinpoint in a giant stretch of blue on the globe.
I detested San Diego. I detested my school, where all the classrooms opened to the outdoors. I detested the fact that the temperature never dropped below 72 and never rose above 72.2.
But my mother, who I now realize was a young woman, did her best. We went tree shopping at the supermarket across the street and found one that made it halfway to the ceiling after we put it on an end table. We covered it with tinsel and lights, being sure to keep the glass ornaments out of reach of the marauding baby sister.
We went to Sea World on Navy night. SeaWorld San Diego, desperate for something a bit different, had a snow playground. Yes, at 72 degrees, I played in the icy man-made snow, a small fog bank hanging over me and my fellow Brats.
We went Christmas shopping at the Navy Exchange (yes, when you’re in the Navy, it is all consuming). My mother threw toys in the cart and told me they were for some other children. I wasn’t very bright then so I bought the ruse. I did score what I thought was the greatest Christmas bargain ever. A plastic riding dog for my sister. And only $4!
On Christmas Eve we drove up to Oceanside to stay with the Goodboes, a Navy family we’d known in Hawaii. The Goodboes had two boys, one near my age. The Navy housing in Oceanside were nice, single home units. Not the usual multi-unit structures, so it was bit more homey that the apartment in San Diego. I’m not sure why everyone left the house during the day on December 24th, leaving me on my own, but that’s how I found myself for a few hours.
I recall that it was a sunny 70 degree day (it was a bit more frigid in Oceanside). I stared at the Goodboe Christmas tree for a while. Ate some cookies no doubt. Finally, I lay on their couch, listening to the Christmas music on the radio. Sleigh Ride. Of course. Not a snowflake in sight.
But as I lay there, it occurred to me that my awful San Diego Christmas hadn’t been so awful after all. Even if it had only been the three of us most of the time, we were family. We bought our Charlie Brown Christmas Tree. We played in the snow. We saw a giant shark in a glass case (now that says Christmas!). We went shopping. I even put a red bow on the plastic dog’s head. And now we were with old friends.
I don’t remember a single gift I got that year. Except for the ball throwing things that mom dropped in the basket at the Exchange. I kind of remember those. But I don’t remember ever feeling unhappy or jipped, as we liked to say, out of my Christmas. Perhaps the years since have somehow filtered out the awful. But, in retrospect, it may very well have been my best Christmas ever.
Pray for the troops and the sailors at sea. God bless and Merry Christmas.
