A Christmas to Remember

The thing about Christmas is that it repeats, it stays pretty much the same from year to year. With the smell of roasted chestnuts in the air, the promise of smoked ham, and chocolate, and loud boisterous games of cards, my relatives travel from across the country to celebrate a series of short and joyous days as a family. There are some elements of the holiday which remain consistent, be it the gift giving, the large helpings of beer and wine, or the small family tiffs that happen when any dynasty gets together. While there is some comfort to be taken from these regularities, these long standing traditions that make the day special, sometimes it’s good to experience something a little different.

Last night a storm rolled in to the Oklahoma badlands, sweeping with an unseen ferocity across the plains. When I woke up on Christmas Eve I was happy to see a light frosting of snow blanketing my parents property. It is a rare thing indeed to see snow this far south, and rarer still to have it during the holiday. When I stepped outside of the house for the first time, I was taken aback by the extreme bite of the wind—with strong gusts hurling shiny mists of snowflakes around my head. My dad and younger brother took off to the city, promising to meet my older brother, my mom, and I at my aunts house for the party that evening.



As we sat inside, warmed by the Franklin stove, preparing hors d'oeuvre for Christmas dinner, the storm began to pick up, whirling with intensity outside the window. Just after lunchtime, we decided to throw all of the presents into my dad’s four-wheel drive pickup, heading into town before the storm got really bad. Less than five minutes after commencing our journey, we met with an unexpected and rather disappointing failure, with winds raging from the north like a vengeful Norse god. The north-south road into town acted like a wind tunnel hurling blasts of snow past the front of our vehicle, limiting visibility to the front of the car. We headed home to wait it out, only to try again a couple of hours later, and this time getting our vehicle stuck in the snowdrift buildup across the road.



Eventually we headed home, disappointed, wondering if we would ever make it to the Christmas dinner. Before lethargy or depression could set in, we began to receive distress calls from our neighbors who told us of friends who had tried to come in for their own parties, and were stuck freezing in their cars. I looked at my brother with a glint in my eye and he nodded, that stern tightening of the jaw, and we suited up like men on a rescue mission, our hats, gloves, snow suit and snow shovels ready to play.

Out into the cold we headed, winds screaming across the plain at well below zero, trudging deliberately through snow. For what seemed like hours we walked, heading through the valley and out into the flat void of the fields. What little wild life we passed, the deer, birds, and local cows all seemed spooked, like some white ghost had lifted its wings over their home, covering them in a chilled and unforgiving darkness. Eventually, with cheeks turned red from the winds, we made it to the stranded car, which had pile-drived into a snowdrift four feet tall in the middle of the road. The young couple inside, watching us arrive in one-piece snowmobile suits, with snow shovels perched readily above our heads, sat up with mouths agape in surprise. We must have looked like astronauts to them, seeking to make other worldly peace in the blinding snow.



After getting the spooked party out of their truck and out to a neighbors house tucked farther down the road, we headed home. The cold was deep but gratifying, ice crystals hanging off of every branch and blade of grass, creating a crystalline world of reflection. The sun would have blazed itself into a thousand directions were it not blanketed by the falling snow.

When we got home, we found my mother shaken and crying, telling us that the family was going to go ahead and celebrate Christmas with out us, that there was just no way for us to get the truck safely past the snow drifts and into town. This just couldn’t happen, we thought. We hadn’t traveled thousands of miles for nothing to miss the very day and reason for our reunion! So, before you could say nutmeg, a plan was formed. We suited up again, threw the presents into grey plastic totes, backpacks, and large bags and headed out once again into the prairie. Through the dark we walked, over hill and through the wood, to grandmothers they go. A Santa hat was stuffed tightly over my head. We trudged, well past sunset, a long trail blazed behind us of footprints and presents dragged across the snow. Finally, breathing hard and with weary feet, we made it to the other side of the drifts. My dad and uncle stood there smiling, blessedly warm SUV’s at the ready to bring us home.



So it was that we ended up celebrating Christmas with family, warmed by a roaring fire. The storm outside continued to rage, knocking down energy lines and stranding people in their cars. For us, it was a Christmas to remember, and one that if not for the swift planning and good will of others, would never have happened.



To you folks out there, known and unknown, sleeping in your beds. To the orphans, and the butterflies, the mythmakers and matchmakers. To the Michiganders, Oklahomans, and Brazilian blessed be. A merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

This is my dad's video when he took off and drove through the storm.