Christmas Eve 2023

At the Capilano Bridge

My routine has been completely disrupted by a sweet gift given to me by my friend Lily. She and another friend decided to treat me to an amazing day and night by taking me to the Capilano Bridge in North Vancouver, Canada. We started in the early afternoon, first by going across the border on Christmas weekend, meaning it took an hour to cross, but we did finally manage. Then driving in horrendous traffic until we found the area in which to park the car for the festivities, which was of course full up. We had to park quite a ways away and be shuttled to the park.

But once we got there, we were just three people in a mass of humanity, the likes of which I haven't seen for decades. Long rope lines kept people moving in the right direction, as we headed towards the bridge itself. This bridge is just under 500 feet in length, and stretches across the Capilano River, a long ways below us. I was truly unprepared for the experience of stepping onto the wobbly suspension bridge, which swayed mightily as the crowds of people went across.

The bridge 

I thought maybe by the time I got to the center, it would stop moving quite so much, but it was just more intense. I never felt good about it, and held onto the side with real fear. It's one thing to be on a suspension bridge, but to be there with so many other people, and having wonky eyesight on top of that, it was quite the experience indeed. I am glad we went, but I was also glad when we made it across to the other side.

Anyway, after the hours-long experience of the bridge and the sights to be seen, we drove to one of Lily's favorite restaurants in Canada and had dinner. This was at 7:00pm at night, and at first I wasn't going to eat much, but I was famished, so I had a wonderful salad and (of course) a beer! But the night wasn't over yet; we still had to get back across the border. This time, however, since it was much later, it was only a fifteen-minute crossing. And then we headed home.  I was home and safe in bed by a little after 10:00pm. This might not sound late to you, but I collapsed into bed and slept dreamlessly until this morning. I am in no shape to contemplate a post, so I decided to give you the treat of an old Christmas Eve post, from 2012, eleven Christmas Eves ago. It was a favorite, and I hope you will enjoy it too

* * *

Christmas Eve 2002

It's been ten years [NB: longer than that now] since Mike McGowan took that picture of me. Every Christmas Smart Guy and I would spend in Eloy, attending the Holiday Boogie at Skydive Arizona. I started going a couple of times every year to Arizona when I lived in Boulder, Colorado. It was just short of a thousand miles away, a couple of long days driving. If the weather looked iffy, we took the southern route; otherwise we drove north to I-80 and then south through Flagstaff on our way to Eloy, which is situated off I-10 between Phoenix and Tucson.

My boss Mickey knew I would want two weeks off during the holidays, and every year before I took off he would hand me a check for $500, knowing full well just where I would spend it. This was out of his own pocket, as we didn't get any kind of bonus at the National Center for Atmospheric Research. Mickey is a very generous person, and I took full advantage of his largess over the years. (Of course, thirty years of working together meant that he also took advantage of me at times.)

That year, 2002, was momentous for me. My son Chris died in August and I had spent the previous three months grieving for my loss. And then earlier in December I turned sixty, which seemed old, very old to me, especially since I was involved in skydiving, which most people think of as a daredevil sport designed for youngsters. (There are plenty of older skydivers, by the way.)

The night before this picture was taken, I had been sitting in the Bent Prop, the local diner at Skydive Arizona, and Mike McGowan and I talked for awhile about life and loss. He's no stranger to loss himself, and he commiserated with me over Chris' sudden passing. Mike has his own photography business, FunAir Productions, and he spends his days during the boogie getting on loads and taking pictures of various skydives. At the end of each day, we would gather in the hangar looking at the proofs he posted for any interested customer to purchase. I bought many from him over the years, when I would want to have a keepsake of a particular skydive.

I don't remember the skydive I had just completed when the picture was taken, but I do know that Mike was not on it. He had just landed from another skydive when I saw him on the ground in front of me. He used a flash and I saw it light up but thought nothing of it. He's a professional photographer, after all, and I thought he probably took pictures every chance he got. It was Christmas Eve, and the sunset after a beautiful day spent in the Arizona sky was a perfect way to end the day.

A few hours later I was again sitting in the Bent Prop when Mike came over and sat down across from me. We spoke of the beautiful day we had just experienced, and we wished each other Merry Christmas when he handed me a 9x12 brown envelope. Mike waited while I opened it to see the picture. Then he left me speechless, as both of us teared up, no further explanation needed. A gesture of love and a Christmas present like no other I have ever received.

I'm sure Mike is still out there in Eloy taking pictures and posting them every evening in the hangar, but it's been five years since I last attended the boogie. Now that I'm living in Washington state, it's no longer a short drive, and living on a fixed income doesn't give me the same chance to spend money like I did a decade ago. But I still have my memories, and I'm still skydiving seasonally when the weather cooperates. Friendship doesn't go away, and I know if I saw Mike again it would be like old times.

For some reason that James Taylor song Fire and Rain has been going through my mind the entire time I've been writing this post. You know the one I mean:

I've seen fire and I've seen rain
I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end
I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend
But I always thought that I'd see you again.

Who knows what the future holds? Another Christmas Eve is upon us, isn't it?

* * *

And now, here I am sitting in the dark in my usual spot for Sunday morning, dear husband sleeping quietly next to me, and I need to get myself up and ready for the breakfast that John and I will be enjoying together. Not that I'm hungry, after last night's dinner, but I'll manage. And then life will return to Christmas Eve normality. Until we meet again next week, I wish you the happiest of holidays, dear friends.