Christmas Eve & Christmas Day

Christmas Eve morning my cabin phone rang early. “We got a fishing boat for a half day! Call me right away,” Sukey’s voice said on my voice mail. We were docked in Mauritius, which is world renowned for blue marlin fishing. The dock was near town and the sun was bright on a cloudless low 80 degrees day. My mom and dad decided to stay on the boat and let my dad rest, so Casey, Sukey and I left the ship to get a taxi for the drive to Grand Baie.

Unlike Reunion Island there were ample cabs just off the ship. We negotiated a round trip half hour ride with an older local named Habib. He agreed to drive us

about 20 miles, wait for us while we went fishing for four hours, and return us to the ship for one hundred dollars.

Habib was a very pleasant man. He was born on Mauritius and appeared to be in his mid-60’s.

“The island is so clean,” I said.

“Yes, very clean,” he replied in a lilting mix of English, French and Creole. “Everyone here likes things so clean.” I could see he took pride in his country. Mauritius is a gorgeous tropical island located about 500 miles east of Madagascar. It is independent and has one of the highest incomes in Africa—about $12,000 per person per year. Their currency, the Mauritian Rupee, is the only official tender, but dollars and euros are widely accepted.

“How many people live here Habib?”

“About 1.2 million. Look,” he said pointing out the window of his car, “that is sugar cane.” He turned to Casey, “Do you like sugar?” Casey nodded vigorou.

“Did you ever work in the sugar cane fields?”

“Oh, yes! Many hours!” His brown face crinkled in a smile. “All my friends worked there.”

“How are the doctors here?” He looked at me not understanding. “If you get sick can you get good medicine?”

“Oh yes! The hospital is free for everyone.”

“What about the government?”

“They are a pretty good government. Not too many problems. We have good roads and not much corruption.”

The roads were almost as clean as Singapore and the drive along the coast was as scenic as anything in the Caribbean. Even though it was Christmas Eve, it felt good to feel the sun on my arms and the ocean breeze rushing through the car. Mauritius is a tropical jewel.

“Here you are. I’ll be waiting here for you after you go fishing.”

“Would you like any money?”

“No, you can pay me later,” he smiled. “Have fun. Merry Christmas.”

When we stepped into the Sportfisher touring office I noticed a four-foot Christmas tree blinking red and green. Next to it was a large yellow tub filled with snorkels, fins and diving masks. Ocean sand was scattered on the floor and most of the staff was barefoot. I could stay here a long time, I thought. As Sukey talked to the agent I kept hearing the Black Eyed Peas singing “I gotta feeling, that tonight’s going to be a good night,” there was no music playing but the song kept running in my head. What a difference a day can make. Yesterday was such a difficult day and today was delightful from the start.

We were led to our fishing boat. It was 50’ long, staffed with three crewmembers— a perfect fishing vessel. I loved the flying bridge, large decks and lounge couches.

We set out to find blue marlin and leaving the harbor felt as grand we leaving St. Tropez or St. Barts. The sailboats, white beaches, hotels and cottages enthralled me.

“Oh Sukey, I am so glad we came. This is beautiful.” Sukey looked at me and

grinned. She was as happy as when she watched the lions on safari. Casey was beside himself on the boat, climbing up and down the deck, running out to check the fishing lines and talking to Curtis, our guide. The fishing reels were bright gold gleaming in sunlight and as large as wheelbarrow tires. The hooks were several inches long and we had at least five lines in the water. The boat had a stereo softly playing and all of a sudden I heard the Black Eyes Peas singing “Fill up my cup, drink, Mozoltov!” A warm chill tingled down my spine as the boat played the song that had been in my head all morning. “Turn it up Curtis! Turn it up!” I shouted. Life has been very confusing lately. In many respects I don’t know where I am heading, I don’t know what’s in front of me and I don’t know what to expect. Yet I am learning to accept, embrace and enjoy the mystery of an examined but unknown life. This is a new way of thinking for me as my life a few years ago was characterizes by firm plans, predictability and anxiety and fear of the unknown.

One of the things that has helped me so much since I adopted Casey is the incredible amount of synchronicity I’ve experienced. I think of a song and an hour later I hear it playing. A stranger tells me about a book I’ve never heard about, and two hours later I see it in a window. A variety of coincidences, some simple some that defy all rational belief have been happening to me since I chose to become Casey’s dad. Though I don’t know where I’m headed, I interpret the coincidences as assurances from the universe that I am on a good path. Just when I get discouraged, confused, question my writing ability, my business acumen, my parenting skills or my capacity to love, something happens that lets me know that I am fine and the fears, doubts and anxiety are just old bugaboos—trying to dysfunctionally extend their influence on my psyche.

I sat in the cabin facing the open deck and fishing lines watching the sea go by in

reverse. The water is so healing. Just sitting there watching the sea transform from jade to turquoise to blue was a priceless gift. Being on Nautica is fantastic, but looking out my cabin from deck 7 isn’t the same as being a few feet above sea level, moving 8 to 10 knots, feeling the spray of the Indian ocean on my face and arms.

We fished for three hours and never got a strike. It didn’t matter. We drank a few sodas, Curtis showed Casey how to set the lures, pilot the boat and climb the decks. We paid $660 for four hours and it was worth every penny.

“I think this is the place dad.”

“What Casey?”

“This is where we should leave it.” We were making our way back to port and I knew what Casey meant. I had brought a small piece of the center of a 170-year old tree from home with us and told him we would leave it someplace special.

“You mean right here?” He solemnly nodded. I got the truffle sized piece of wood from my camera bag and prepared to toss it in the sea.

“Wait! We have to do it together!” He held my hand and we threw our symbol from home into the ocean. It bobbed in the jade colored sea and Casey looked at me

with a big grin. When we docked the other boat from our charter company had caught a blue marlin. They offered to let us take photos, so we did.

“Can I tell everyone I caught this fish dad?”
“Well, that’s up to you. There is a long tradition of telling fishing stories… so I suppose you could. You might feel bad about lying though.”

A mischievous grin appeared, “I won’t feel bad at all!”

We returned to the ship and I wrapped a few things with the paper I bought in Reunion. My dad loves the British Air socks that came in the first class amenities pack. I washed them all, and wrapped them for him. They are comfortable, stretch well and easily pull on and off. Casey checked our door—his stocking hangs on it and things seem to appear in it almost hourly—and discovered we had several notes. Casey was invited to meet Santa in the Grand Lobby on deck 5 Christmas morning to receive gifts, and our neighbors gave us a Christmas card.

My dad didn’t feel well, so Casey, my mom and I went to dinner without him. The meal was superb. The Grand Dining Room had caviar, lobster, prime rib, turkey and Caesar salad. The only thing missing was

Pumpkin pie. When we returned to the cabin there was a white paper package tied with blue string on my bed. And inside is one of my new favorite things—a wooden keepsake box with a map of our trip and ports inlaid on the top. It was a gorgeous souvenir and I will treasure it long after this cruise ends. Before going to sleep I made sure Casey’s stocking was full for Christmas morning and I went to the 11:00 p.m. strings concert. There were less than fifty passengers in the Nautica lounge listening to the late night music, but I had to go. How often can I hear live musicians playing Christmas music on Christmas Eve? At the end of the concert the cruise director, Dottie, announced that the midnight service would start in about twenty minutes. As I left the lounge and waited for the elevator I saw two couples standing just outside the show room.

“I’m so tired, I don’t know if I can wait for the service,” one lady said.

“I know honey. Why don’t we go into the casino and stay there till the service begins. That will keep you awake!” Her husband suggested. As they walked the twenty feet from the show lounge to the casino I stifled a laugh. Only on a cruise ship could you listen to a live string version of Silent Night, then go to a casino before coming back twenty minutes later for a midnight Christmas Eve service.

Christmas morning I enjoyed cappuccino and pastries from room service while Casey got ready for Santa. When we arrived at the Grand Lobby at least a hundred passengers were milling about waiting for Santa. The daily schedule promised

Santa would arrive at 9:30. Around 9:40, with no sign of the man in red, a few passengers started chanting, “WE WANT SANTA. WE WANT SANTA.” I caught the captain looking at the cruise director, Dottie, both of them holding back a laugh.

“Alright, alright,” Dottie said to the crowd, “Calm down. Santa is coming. Trust me. I know his schedule. Why don’t we sign Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer while we’re waiting.” We didn’t even get to “join in any reindeer games,” before Santa strolled in with a bag of toys and an elf helper. Camera flashes lit up the lobby—if Santa had been shy of paparazzi he would have run the other way—but he smiled, posed, shook hands and made his way to a special chair.

“I understand we have a young man named Casey aboard. Casey, where are you?” Santa’s voice boomed. Casey beamed as he and I made our way through the crowd. “Casey, I understand you have been a very good boy this year and I

have some gifts for you. Is there an Anthony aboard?” Anthony come forward too. Both boys shyly smiled as cameras flashed and many grandparents beamed at them. Santa gave them each three gifts and then the captain came over to take a photo with the kids and Santa.

“Where’s your mom, Anthony?” I asked him.

“She likes to sleep in. In Argentina we like to get up at noon but I needed to come to see Santa.”

“Do you want to come with us to brunch?”

“No, I am going to walk around the ship.” He wandered off with his presents (each boy got headphones, an Oceania towel and backpack) and we went to Christmas brunch. My dad still wasn’t feeling well so he didn’t come with us to eat. I had eggs benedict, bacon, coffee and orange juice. I know I have complained about the orange juice on Oceania in the past, but today it was perfect. I think it’s actually improved! Casey had to leave early to go to a dress rehearsal for tonight’s Christmas show. He and Anthony are part of the entertainment, reading a few humorous letters from children to Santa.

After brunch Casey and I went to my parent’s cabin to listen to my dad read the

Christmas story from Luke, and open gifts. My father was very emotional as he read it this year. A few times his voice cracked and his eyes welled up. After we opened our few gifts my mom took Casey on a scavenger hunt around the boat. It’s a tradition in our family to to find multiples clues to get a gift. As Casey and my mom roamed the ship (she hid clues at the concierge desk, waves grill, the laundry room and both our cabins) I talked to my dad.

“How are you feeling dad?”

“Not that great.” He looked tired.

“Are you depressed?”

“Maybe a little.” He was quiet.

“Well, I think you deserve to be. Your situation is depressing. You’ve never been prone to depression so feeling bad about the way things are going seems like a pretty natural thing to me. Maybe you could stay depressed for a while, feel the feelings, and then when you get tired of it or work through it we could figure some things out.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just mean you should feel your feelings until you’ve felt them enough… then we can work on ways of making things better.”

“How?”

“Well, first of all we can work on you learning to receive. You are about the most giving person I know, but you aren’t very good at accepting help or receiving support. You’ve been giving your whole life and now it’s time to receive.” He looked skeptical. “Take dinner. Tonight is prime rib. You won’t like it, but I could cut your meat for you. Did you know last cruise there was a man onboard who brought someone along just to feed him and help him bathe? Sure this sucks, but we can make it easier. It’s a tough time, but we can still make the best of it. Your mind is still pretty good, we can have good conversations and there are lots of little things mom and I can do to make things easier. You just need to let us.”

“That’s not so easy.”

“I know. It’s going to be hard for you. But it’s good for you. It’s the way life is supposed to be—you can’t always be the one giving. Part of learning to give is learning to receive. Ironic that we are talking about this on Christmas day isn’t it? But it’s true. I promise you will be happier if you’ll let us help you now with some of the things you can’t do for yourself anymore. If you don’t want to, that’s fine, I can’t make you choose to make things easier, but I am willing to help and mom is too. Believe it or not, we want to help you. Just as much as you’d want to help either of us.”

“Humph,” he cleared his throat. “It just seems like this is happening so quickly. I didn’t know it would be so fast.”

“I know. It’s very sad. But we also don’t know if things might stabilize or even improve a little from time to time. It’s possible the heat and humidity are making you more tired. You know dad, one of the things I admire and respect about you is they way you and mom have prepared yourself for whatever comes up. Your home is paid off, you bought long-term assisted living insurance 10-years ago, you have enough money in the bank, enough so that after you die mom will be well taken care of—but more than all that do you know what your greatest asset is?”

“You kids.”

“Exactly. You have four kids, all of whom will do whatever is necessary to make sure you are well taken care of and after you are gone make sure mom is fine. Your entire life you have been kind, compassionate and you have done your best to have integrity around your values. I can’t tell you what an important example that’s been for me. I don’t think I could have made it with any other dad. I don’t know why certain people end up with certain parents, but I believe I had the best chance with you.” His eyes welled up and he stared right at me. “It’s obvious to me in life that we don’t always get what we want, but I believe we always get what we need, and I am convinced I needed you. You are a great dad. I’ve met thousands of people and there are no two people I’d rather have as parents than you and mom. So, even though things are tough right now, trust me that from another perspective what appears so terrible won’t seem that way forever. I don’t know what’s in store for us. I don’t know what happens when we die, but I know this. Your mom and grandma are as real and alive to me as you are. I don’t know why, I know they died, but they aren’t dead to me. Death and disease aren’t going to end our relationship and someday, from some perspective, what appears so terrible now won’t look so bad in hindsight. You’ve lived your whole life in devotion to principles you believed in. God won’t let you down now.”

He nodded, “I know. I know that….” He said slowly and quietly. “But some days its hard to feel good about your life when you lose your memory and you can’t even turn your body to get out of a car seat.” I nodded in agreement.

“I think I understand a little. I’d hate to have your disease and I am certain I’d be depressed too.”

He flashed the hint of a smile. “Well at least I have you kids.” Just then Casey and my mom returned to the cabin. The final clue was in their room and it’s impossible to have a meaningful conversation with my dad when Casey is scavenging for a Christmas present.

That afternoon our trivia team took first place. We haven’t been first in about a week, so we were excited. Once again my dad was crucial to a winning answer—and we only took first by one point. After trivia Sukey, Carole my mom and I started discussing Christmas dinner.

“What time do you want to eat?” Sukey asked.

“Probably early. Casey has to be at the show by 9:20. Does 6:45 work for you Sukey? How about you mom and dad?” I asked.

“Your father isn’t going to have dinner.”

“What’s wrong Peter?” Carole asked. “Aren’t you feeling well?”

“Well,” he said slowly, “I have a headache and a little nausea.”

“I wonder if he has a fever,” my mom interjected. I felt his forehead. It was warm, but seemed normal.

“Why don’t you take him to the doctor Jack?” Sukey suggested. My dad agreed and I got my mom to let me take him so she didn’t have to wait at the medical center. When we arrived the center had just opened. Regular hours are from 8 to 9:30 a.m. and 6 to 7:30 p.m. We filled out a few forms and after a short wait we saw the doctor. He was a personable, intelligent man from Poland. His English was very good and his father-in-law has Parkinson’s. He interviewed my dad thoroughly and tested his blood, urine, glucose and gave him a complete check-up. When my dad was out of the room he handed me a piece of paper he printed from his computer about Lewy Body Disease. He had highlighted a section at the bottom.

“We will rule out any infection or dehydration but you know what this is? He asked as he pointed to the underlined words: “Lewy body disease usually beings between the ages of 50 and 85. The disease gets worse over time. There is no cure. Treatment focuses on drugs to help symptoms.”

“There is not so much we can do. I hope your father can stay, finish the cruise and make some good memories before we reach Singapore. He needs to eat and he needs to move around. I think if all his tests are clear we will give him a small does of steroids. This should improve his appetite. It won’t make things magically better, but it may help.”

“That sounds good. I’m going to go get my mom so she can talk to you too.” I went upstairs while we waited for my dad’s lab results. My mom looked a little worried. It was strange seeing her dressed elegantly for a shipboard Christmas dinner standing next to my father in the medical center with an IV line in his arm. The doctor explained the options and she and my dad both thought taking the steroids made sense. By now he had been in the medical center for about 45-minutes.

The nurse walked in and handed the doctor a report, “OK, here is the good news. Your white blood count is perfect, you aren’t dehydrated, all your lab work is excellent… are your eyes watering Peter?”

My dad shook his head. “No, I guess I’m just feeling sorry for myself.”

“Dad,” I said gently, “Maybe part of your loss of appetite is depression. Isn’t that a possibility?” The doctor and my mom nodded in agreement.

“I guess it’s possible, but I don’t know what it feels like.” This was true. I have never known my dad to be depressed till the last few years.

“Remember how you felt when you asked Mom to marry you and she didn’t give you an answer right away? It feels like that.” He laughed a little.

“If you ask her now I bet she says yes,” the doctor kindly told him. He looked at my mother and she smiled and agreed. We returned to the cabin, ordered my dad some soup and then went to Christmas dinner without him.

By the time we reached the Grand Dining Room it was packed. We were escorted to a table intended for four that had five place settings squeezed in. The Versace china didn’t look so good crammed into too small a space. All the waiters were busy and tuxedoed butlers had been brought in for reinforcement. One of them handed us menus. A few minutes later an assistant waiter brought us bread. I noticed that there were only four bread plates and I didn’t have one.

“Would you care for some bread sir,” the waiter asked.

“No. I don’t have a bread plate.” He looked embarrassed.

“Here dad! Share mine!” Casey offered. He loves to fix problems.

“No Casey. It’s fine.” How often I say “it’s fine” when really I don’t feel it is. I was a little upset that I was the only person at our table without a bread plate, but what I really cared about was that my dad wasn’t able to have Christmas dinner with us

We sat there for five minutes. White jacketed waiters hustled everywhere but none of them came to our table. I started to feel anxious. We needed to eat quickly to we could see the Christmas show that Casey was in. I hailed a headwaiter and he quickly came over.

“Hi. Do you know if we have a waiter? A butler handed us our menus and we haven’t seen a regular waiter yet and we are in kind of a hurry.”

Very politely he said, “Yes you have a waiter but they aren’t here now. I’ll try to help you in just a few minutes.”

“OK. One other thing. My father was just in the medical center and I want to take him a glass of buttermilk. Can you please bring one to the table and I’ll take it to his cabin?”

“I can send it there for you…” he suggested.

“No, I want to take it to him.” He nodded and left. A few minutes later a sommelier approached us. The last thing I needed right now was someone offering me a drink. He was a large, friendly man and he smiled at the whole table.

“Hi, everyone. Merry Christmas. Is there anything I can get you?”

“Yes!” I said too loudly. “How about a waiter.”

He looked aback. “Let me see what I can do about that.” He turned to the rest of the table. “Would anyone like any wine?” He helped Sukey and I felt ashamed of my rude comment. When he returned with her wine I motioned him toward me.

“Hey, I’m really sorry. My dad just spent an hour in the medical center, my son is in the Christmas show and we need to get done quickly. I’m sorry I was so rude to you. It’s our fault we are late for dinner not yours. Anyway, I apologize, I was feeling really stressed—and I’m sorry I took it out on you… I hope when you get off work you have a good time at the crew dinner. Anyway, Merry Christmas.”

“It’s all right. Today can be really stressful. I’m sorry about your father… and you already said Merry Christmas to me earlier today,” his eyes twinkled as he gave me a knowing stare.

“I did? I don’t remember ever seeing you…”

“You sat on my lap,” he prompted. A chill went down my spine.

“You mean you… you were….”

“Yep, I was Santa.” We both started started to laugh.

“I picked the worst person on the ship to insult on Christmas. I am so, so sorry.”

“Hey, it’s OK.” He leaned toward me and whispered conspiratorially, “Look, we try really hard here. But on a night like this it’s almost impossible to give every guest the service we’d really like to give. Besides, you weren’t that rude at all. Merry Christmas. I hope you dad gets better.”

The buttermilk arrived and I took it up to my dad’s cabin. I watched him finish his broth. I rushed back to the dining room and enjoyed an exquisite mozzarella appetizer. The meal kept getting better. Despite the pressure of serving about 500 gourmet meals, the food was excellent. The headwaiter, the assistant waiter all worked together to make our meal perfect. It was like the Grand Dining Room was a grand prix racecar that almost crashed—but then corrected, accelerated and took first place. A waiter from another section who recognized me walked across the dining room to being me an ice cold Perrier I hadn’t even ordered. He just knows I drink them every night. The Virginia ham with a brown citrus glaze was the best I’ve ever tasted. The desserts were exquisite and the service, like the food, just kept improving. How do they do it? I marveled. How do they pull this off? It can’t be easy to make 500 Oceania guests happy at Christmas Dinner.

We got to the show and Casey had saved us a few seats near the front. Tom

Drake read The Night Before Christmas, the housekeeping choir walked in dressed in angelic white robes, each carrying a candle, singing Silent Night. The string quartet played a haunting Celtic Christmas then Casey and Anthony read a few

children’s letters to Santa. I was so proud of him on the Nautica stage, in a tie and Navy blazer, reading perfectly in front of hundreds of people. He has come so far in so short a time. A woman came up to me at dinner after Casey left and said, “I just want to tell you I’ve been watching your son since the cruise started. You and your wife have done such a good job raising him. He has fine manners and is so well behaved.” I thanked her and didn’t bother to explain the truth. Some things are easier left unsaid.

Toward the end of the show John, one of the entertainers, started singing Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas. The stage was dark except for a blue light surrounding him. As he sang, “Through the years we all will be together, if the fates allow,” I started to cry. This feels like my dad’s last Christmas. I don’t know if he will be dead, but the person who raised me probably won’t be here next year. I don’t feel angry, jealous or resentful about this. It’s just a fact—and it’s a difficult one for any child to accept about a beloved parent.

I love my dad. I appreciate all the Christmas memories he created for us, but what I really appreciate is his effort to keep the spirit of Christmas alive in our family every day of the year. What is the spirit of Christmas? I don’t know. I guess it’s a little different for everyone. Whether one is a Christian, Muslim, Pagan, Jew, Atheist, Hindu or something else I think it’s fair to say that the story of Jesus Christ is a story of hope, love, betrayal, death and resurrection. To me the spirit of Christmas is the energy of the Angels. The divine light and love that I believe is the birthright of every soul on this planet. I wrote my mom and dad a letter today. At the end I said, “Don’t ever forget. Angels watch over us.” Why I believe that’s true I don’t know. It just feels so resonant to me, and the older I get the more I trust my feelings. I believe the way to wisdom runs through the heart more often than it intersects the mind.

It’s a few minutes after midnight on Nautica as we sail toward the Seychelles Islands. Christmas is just over. After the show I went up to the deck. I wanted to see the stars. It was warm and lightly raining through the soft ocean breeze. Though the clouds obscured the stars, they couldn’t block the moon and a yellowish-silver moonset flowed from the heavens to the ship. No one else was on deck. I looked around as the chairs, pool bar and Balinese daybeds. I’ve had a lot of great memories here. I thought about all the things I had seen here with my parents—visiting the pyramids, hiking through Petra, touring India, enjoying long sea days and learning Bridge—and I looked to the sky and gave thanks. It really is a wonderful life and though I’m navigating through lots of rocks and shoals it’s OK. I’m going to come out the other side and new life, new adventure, new love and new experiences are waiting there for me to arrive.

Thanks for reading.

Jack