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Boxing Day Style. . .

 


Not yours truly this time, but another vintage image fron my collection of Santa Claus, Father Christmas, and Saint Nicholas images long past.  In keeping with spirit of the season, which, despite what retailers, news media, and radio stations might have us believe, is still in full swing.

Or at least it is here in the Grand Duchy.  

And as I enjoy a mug of strong black coffee with a large piece of cherry pie for lunch and listen to some traditional German-language carols, I ponder Christmases long past on this icy, dark Boxing Day.  My mind turns back to December 1988 when I spent the Christmas and New Year's period with my mother and step-father in Southampton, England.  

It was a day not unlike today when my TWA flight touched down about 7am at London-Heathrow on Boxing Day.  I had spent most of Christmas proper in transit from Philadelphia with a lengthy layover at JFK in New York on my way across the Atlantic.  Just days after the Lockerbie disaster.

The journey itself was eye-opening for at least a couple of reasons.  One, it had never before occurred to me the throngs of people travelling internationally on Christmas Day.  And two, the sheer number of travelers continuing about their business right after Lockerbie, which was on everyone's minds.  Were were probably all more than a little anxious, but going ahead with our travel plans nonetheless in the hope of reaching our destinations unharmed.

At any rater. I arrived, tired and bleery-eyed on the morning of December 26th happy to spot my step-father and mother in the crowd of family members and friends greeting my flight as we exited the baggage claim area.  I can't recall when I have ever been so glad to step back onto solid ground.  After hugs, and kisses, we made our way to the parking deck for the trip back to Southampton.  

The two weeks I spent with Mom and Step-Dad were, in a word, magical.  And while I consider myself very fortunate to count most of the many Christmases I have celebrated as something approaching wonderful, that year in the U.K. was especially noteworthy.  

Dark, chilly, frosty.  Perfect for trips to places like Bath Abby, Salisbury Cathedral, Winchester Cathedral, Westminster Abby, and Stonehenge plus the National Army Museum, a number of bookstores, a cream tea in a tea house that dated back to the middle ages, several cafes, a few pubs. and special Christmas dinners.  

In my own baggage I had transported a couple of cans of Libby's pumpkin pie mix, along with actual gifts, since my mother could not find that in British supermarkets at the time.  She had carefully instructed yours truly to bring them during a telephone conversation about 10 days before my departure for the U.K.  

In addition to everything else, there was also an amazing New Year's Eve party thrown by a colleague of my step-father's, during which I met all kinds of interesting academics from Britain, various European countries, the Middle East, and North Africa. It was quite an eye-opening experience for the callow 22-year old me in the best way possible.  Probably, in part, that evening, indeed the entire trip, was responsible for my eventually returning to school to eventually become an academic myself.  It started the gears turning in my own mind in other words. 

I still think of that visit fondly whenever it crosses my mind each year at this time.

-- Heinz-Urich

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All opinions are welcome here. Even those that differ from mine. But let's keep it clean and civil, please.

-- Heinz-Ulrich

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