It’s Christmas 2023, while fifteen years earlier (December 29, 2008) I was contemplating the start of a running streak that was originally planned for New Year’s Day. We flew into Indy from Austin, drove on icy roads to Elkhart to see my folks and had Christmas dinner at my wife’s sister’s home at Geist. We then traveled to Decatur to check on our unsold house and went to Bloomington to watch I.U. basketball lose in embarrassing fashion to unheralded Lipscomb. These were the days when Christmas was an absolute hassle, trying to spread our time between friends and family in three different states and four or five different cities. The bigger nightmare, however, was finding the Decatur home flooded from a broken pipe. I think I started my running streak a few days early to help deal with the stress of all this. I haven’t missed a Christmas morning jog since, still running away from my problems. 

This year’s Christmas was easy. Brunch at a neighbor’s and dinner with family at home. It rained during my morning run, but it was my son who was rushing with the kids from place to place instead of me. It’s, in fact, the very first time that my son, his wife, and the grandkids have been with me in our home on Christmas Day – a monumental occasion! I’ll get to see the look on my five-year-old granddaughter’s face when she beholds the Barbie Dreamhouse that I assembled in our garage. 

Earlier today, my wife opened her traditional Limoges box gift, a memory from our visit to King Tut’s tomb. I enclosed the following poem: 

These Moments We Share

We’ve seen the world,

And Buddha’s butt.

And visited the tomb,

Of pharaoh King Tut.


Our first might have been,

The Twin Towers on high.

The lights of Times Square,

And fireworks in the sky.


We’ve cruised the Nile,

Stayed in an overwater hut.

And at luxury resorts,

Shaded by the coconut.


We’ve heard prayers in mosques,

Synagogues and Churches.

And stood atop,

Some precarious perches.


Rocamadour comes to mind,

Or a rollercoaster ride.

I’m always much braver.

With you at my side.


Even at sunset,

It’s always proven true.

There is no better view,

Then looking at you.


We’ve been to the Pyramids,

Admired the Sphinx.

Stood in Monet’s Garden.

And by the statue that Thinks.


The Beatles and Big Ben,

Bourbon Street pubs.

Michelin Stars,

Vacation Clubs. 


Nantucket to Napa,

Hood to Coast.

Key West to Mackinaw,

All Bucket stops we boast.


Coronado Island,

Caribbean getaways.

Hall of Fame museums,

San Francisco Bay.


Traveled on cruise ships,

Flown in First Class.

Marveled at Glaciers.

And Chihuly glass.


Normandy’s white crosses,

Or atop the Eiffel Tower.

A slow Positano ferry ride,

To fast Hydroplane power.


Castles and Temples,

Too many to mention.

Or Palace Guards,

Standing at attention.


A Maui Luau,

Huatulco waves.

Mountains and Oceans,

Crypts and Caves.


From Route 66,

To the Champs-Elysées.

I sometimes take the wheel,

But you always point the way.


Amsterdam and Rome,

Santorini blue domes.

Overall, in five states,

We’ve owned homes. 


Petra and the Dead Sea,

Night Life on the Strip.

Our Bellagio Wedding,

It’s been quite a trip!


Planes, Trains, and Auto,

Ubers, Taxis, and bikes.

Despite my reluctance,

Even cliff-nics and hikes. 


Stonehenge seemed tiny,

After all that we’ve done.

And soon we’ll be basking,

In the Mallorca sun.


But the best place of all, 

Is in your arms.

Beholding your beauty,

Admiring your charms.


All would be meaningless,

If you weren’t there.

To hold me hand,

In these moments we share.


Christmas 2023

Copyright 2023


Sorry about all the formatting issues.