Just the beginning of the day
A time to gather family home, that is Christmas for me, happy exhilarating time of year.
The Christmas I remember so vividly was a few years back. Fog had rolled in over the valley, wind and rain made trees bow to their demands. Excitement filled the malls and department stores, as people rushed around buying gifts and poinsettias. Harvest was over, and grapevines stood stark, gnarled, and bare, resting. There was no rest for me. A tree to be bought, gifts to wrap, and a long nine-hour drive to be made to Roseburg Veterans Hospital. There a son waited to come home for Christmas.
Tomorrow arrived, the alarm clock screamed at me, it was three in the morning and time to roll. A cold, dark winter morning, and I eased the pick-up out onto Lower Sacramento Road, then to Turner Road, and on to I-5. Sacramento is behind me now, and I am looking forward to breakfast in Williams. Big trucks lumber by me blasting my pick-up with heavy gusts of air. Red Bluff is next, I am thankful it isn’t blistering hot. Redding next, I wonder what it would be like to live in Redding. As I pass through Weed, the wide open spaces of the old West come to mind, and am challenged by more monster trucks, as they leave my little pick-up in their trail of fumes. Now it is Ashland I am passing by. It would be nice to spend a weekend there, and enjoy a Shakespeare play or two, Medford is still ahead, and the tall gray cliffs of Canyonville, before I round the curve and see the red brick buildings of the V.A. Hospital. Oh, it will be good to see Myrtle Creek bounding along side the freeway, and at last turn into the back entrance of the hospital.
I see the entrance, the hospital laundry, the rose gardener, the long narrow class rooms and at last the parking lot. There I sit for a minute, and fight back tears. He is getting such good care; I wish he could stay here for ever. This is the 23rd of December, tomorrow we will be on our way back to Lodi.
Cold air startles me as I open the pick-up door. I look around; nothing has changed much since my last visit. Walking up the wheelchair ramp, I meet Charles sitting in his usual place on a sunny day. Charles is paralyzed, and has lost part of his right leg. Charles can’t talk, but his eyes greet me with a smile. I tell him about my trip to Roseburg, and that I am here to see my son. My heart aches for him as I enter the first floor of the V.A. Hospital. Here on the first floor are the physical injuries of war. I walk down the hall, doors are open veterans are lying in their beds. I smile and say hi, but don’t linger, too much sadness here. I take the stairs, on past the second floor. On the second floor veterans are treated for alcohol and drug problems. On up to the third floor I go. This is the floor my son is on, and this is where the mentally ill veterans come for hope and medication, therapy for an illness that will stay with them as long as they live. There is a fourth floor, it gated and locked, very off limits. What lost souls are up there, I wonder. Hopefully that fourth floor is not in use any more entering the third floor it takes a moment to find someone who can help me. A tall, blond, handsome patient walking very straight and stiff comes to offer me help. John, “he is in the recreation room playing pool” he tells me. “I will take you there”, he offers. We walk down the hall to an L shaped room with many windows, well-worn chairs and couches scattered about. John is at the other end of the room having a good game of pool. While thanking my soldier escort; John comes over and gives me a hug. It is good to be with my son. We walk around the grounds of the hospital until John must go in to eat, and I must find a motel and have dinner. Tomorrow we would be on our way back to Lodi, but fate got in our way.
Snow began to fall, as I tried to start the pick-up. It was now dark, the snow was gently falling, the pick-up gave no response to my urging. A nurse called the guys in. We would need to leave the pick-up in the parking lot for the night.
The snow fell so silently as the moon drifted in and out of the cloud. I walked back to the motel alone. I remember walking fast to keep ahead of anything that might jump out at me that cold wintry night. Next day the pick-up went into a garage, and we would not be getting home for Christmas. Phone calls were made and we decided to have Christmas on New Years.
The pick-up had frozen up, the mechanic told me. All that was needed was a warm place for awhile and it would thaw.
Christmas Eve at the Roseburg Veterans Hospital everyone could stay up late if they wanted to. There were discussion groups for some, visiting with relatives for others, and in a large room in one of the main buildings a tree was glittering with lights and ornaments. I remember that room being a happy, colorful blur of music, laughter, conversation, and good things to eat and drink. The wonderful American Legion ladies had brought the food and punch, decorated the room and did everything possible to give the veterans a good Christmas.
We retrieved our well thawed pick-up the next morning and drove out the back gate on to I-5. The miles flew away under our tires as we made it safely back to Lodi. Our tree wasn’t as perky as when I left, but bravely carried on and helped us have a happy merry Christmas.