Those Alone

1) Feeding the Reigndeer
2) How an Army Wife receives her presents. Wraped in contractors paper with 550 Cord and 100mph tape!

I am not sure why I started thinking of this the other day, but it just hit me. I have spent many a Holiday Season away from family and friends, even when I was at home. I remember my first Christmas as a Police Officer. It was DEC of 95. I volunteered to work Christmas Eve so the married men could go home with their families. It had to be the loneliest, quietest night ever. Even though I was just across town from everyone I knew, I was miles away. As I was walking my assigned area that was mandatory to check on foot, I absorbed the silence. There was not another soul around, no cars driving by, no sirens, the radio barely even squawked that night. While I was out protecting the town, everyone else was at home, sleeping, putting out Santa gifts, and getting ready for the big festive day of Christmas. I knew that when I got done with work, I would go home, sleep, maybe get a few gifts from Mom and Dad, a little chow, and then back to work. The air was cold that night, but really fresh and clean. You could smell the pine sent from all of the Frazier Fur trees that decorated the area. As the wind drifted I could smell the pleasant odor of turkeys cooking in peoples ovens and some on smokers that were outside. Then as I was thinking about how lonely it was to be in my position, I came across a local vagrant named Jeremy. He was hanging out under one of the bridges near the old railroad station. He was cold, probably hungry, and definitely dirty. As far as I knew this man had no family to speak of and I never saw him speak to anybody. He seemed so alone. Miserable. Pitiful. I wondered how many people don't notice the beautiful lights of Christmas, the smells in the air. I wondered how many people don't feel the peace of Christ on the Silent Night. No, I did not do the hero thing and give him a blanket and some money, I'm not that big of a man and Jeremy would not have taken it anyway. Instead, he just said "Merry Christmas Officer Phillips"

"Merry Christmas Jeremy. You doing OK out here tonight?"

"Yes, sir! This is my home, I'm doing fine. Thanks for asking."

"Goodnight Jeremy"

"Goodnight Boss"

And that was that. I was left to ponder my thoughts for the rest of the night until I got into a fight with a drunk driver. Then my concern for my fellow man went straight back into the ditch.
This was the Christmas story of my life for seven years. Hey kids, Santa can't come tonight. He's got to go bail your Daddy out of jail. Oh yeah, he spent Christmas dinner money on beer, so you will have to eat Raman noodles again tonight. Merry Christmas.

I have spent two Christmases in combat in Iraq. While there during the holiday season I longed for the Christmas lights of home. The cold air. The friendliness of people in general, the fun of giving gifts to people you care about. I wondered how my children were doing and if Santa was going to treat them right. I wondered what their faces would look like when they woke up Christmas morning and saw what Santa had brought them. It was the loneliest feeling I have ever felt. However, at the same time there was a whole bunch of Soldiers who felt just as lonely as I did. We had our own Christmas party. It was called "combat operations". The camaraderie that is developed when you spend such a special time sucking it up with a group of brothers in arms is overwhelming. I'll never forget how I spent Christmas Eve of 2003. My platoon had been ordered to conduct a convoy operation from the Turkish border back down to Mosul. Christmas Eve day we left Mosul and drove to Zacko, Iraq to link up with our civilian logistical convoy. This was a last minute mission, so there was no time to call home and wish everyone a Merry Christmas, just grab your shit and go. Once there in Zacko, which is a majority Christian area, I found out there was a Christmas Eve service we could attend. I though it would be conducted by the Chaplain of the small base that was there, but it was actually a local church. I just assumed that the church would be Protestant, Greek Orthodox or such but nope. Assyrian Catholic. My first Catholic Mass, in Hajj land. Yeah......wow.

So, the priest looks like the typical old Catholic Priest. Dude looked like he probably knew Jesus personally he was so old. He had white hair, a head that was the size of a watermelon and bad teeth. He was mumbling some chant "Hayayayayay, Eyayayaay, Ayayayaya yayaaaaaaaa" and then would fall asleep for about 30 seconds while the choir echoed in response. The repeated this shit for about an hour. The second Hajj in charge was running around light candles and doing various other tasks, like touching boys. (Not really.) Then here comes this other priestlet apprentice looking cat walking down the aisle between the pews swing the "smoke ball". Now this was not your average smoke ball, this thing was the size of a basketball and must have had a bonfire inside because it was producing a fog cloud of incense smoke. It was so think that the whole congregation started choking and coughing. However His Oldness just kept on chanting and sleeping, never missed a beat.

Suddenly, the lights dimmed and a start appeared on the wall behind Oldie, Ahhhh, the star of Christ! Holy smokes! (No pun intended, ok, maybe some.) Here come Mary, Joseph, and a REAL Hajjlet that is supposed to be Jesus! The Christmas story! Sweet! I know this one! So, here come the Shepherds, carrying a real live lamb! Yeah, ole' Trinity United Methodist Church in Opelika, AL ain't never stepped up the plate like that. This was cool! The wise men actually had Frankincense and Mir. While we were relearning the story of the birth of Christ, I noticed this barrel full of twigs. I said to myself, "Self, wouldn't it be funny if Hajji lit that shit on fire in church!" Well right after the whole Christmas party surrounded Jesus, sub priest one torched the twigs! Now the smoke in the church is doubled, flames are reaching the top of the church, and I am scared shitless in a house of God! Old dude is still chanting, not missing a beat. I have talked to every Catholic priest and Protestant man of the cloth and can not find anyone who knows the answer as to what the burning twigs was all about. Maybe because Joe and Mary were homeless bums and all homeless bums keep warm with barrel fires? I have no idea. But it was by far the COOLEST Christmas Eve service EVER!!!!! It was a good thing that the church was made of 100% concrete, if it would have been my home church that would have been the first and last bum barrel fire for Christmas. Ashes to ashes, still ashes. Even the mighty Opelika Fire Department would not be able to save that place if it caught on fire! I'm still gonna have to get them to try it!

My second Christmas in Iraq was not nearly as sexy. My boss just went around yelling all pissed off, telling everyone that we were pussies for going to church, especially on Christmas. He actually said "At Christmas I am supposed to be home with my kids sitting by a fire. Since I can't, I am going to make every body's day shitty!" What a jack ass. I would have much preferred the barrel fire and the real lamb in a language I can't understand.

I'm glad I will be home for Christmas this year. I plan on having a great time with the kids and fully immersing myself in Holiday Cheer! Merry Christmas, Bitches!!!!!!! Or for my Latino Amigos "Felice Navidad, Beeeechez!!!"