Christmas Memory I'd Like to Forget

Christmas Memories I'd Rather Forget

Crash Christmas

Like the previous story concerning a loved one's last Christmas, the season may have bittersweet memories for some of us. For many years, I suffered from a bad case of after-Christmas blues. Sure, I loved watching my two daughters open their gifts on Christmas day, but soon after, I'd lapse into depression. It took me awhile to figure out the reason. I finally figured it out. My mother's second husband, the man who I once called Dad, managed to wreck the family car at Christmas time more often than not it seemed.

This man, an inveterate impaired driver, got too many chances to cruise the roads stinking drunk. I know that sounds impossible these days, that someone could continue driving while intoxicated and stay out of jail, or keep his license, but in the 1950s and early 1960s, laws weren't what they are today. So, one year, let's call him Dan, drove through a gas station with my mother's pink Thunderbird. When I say "through a gas station" I mean he drove through the station--its walls, its office, etc.

The first year I lived with him in Las Vegas, he wrecked the family's car again, and since he was a regular in the emergency room of the hospital, he managed to renew his acquaintance with the orderly there who had helped him the year before. (I don't know how many wrecks this was for him.) He managed to slide on his ass across the road, tearing the skin off his back, the back of his head, his legs. Unfortunately, he hit another car that year. I don't know what became of the people he hit.

Crash Christmas did not miss a year. The next Christmas season, we lived in Cardiff-by-the-Sea, California. Drunk again, Dan drove over an embankment on Pacific Coast Highway. After a crash that left him with broken ribs, things got ugly between my mother and Dan. I never even got to finish the year at my school. We moved back to Las Vegas with about a week left in the school year. I remember the teacher in Vegas looking at me like, how in the hell can I grade this kid. I guess I had no transcripts. Gee, I hope I at least got all "A"s. 

The point is, sometimes the holiday season rings the wrong bells. Remember, giving often involves understanding. I got over my post-Christmas blues. If you are, or know someone who is afflicted with the holiday blahs, be kind and do your best to create a tradition that does not include the problems.