Christmas Onboard

As of this year, I have experienced twenty-one Christmas days.  Despite their individual joys, memories of the first twenty have run together.  This Christmas, however, is one which will remain a distinct memory.

Within the engine room, there is an undeniable camaraderie.  Christmas day, this camaraderie was tangible.

The first demanded all cadets take the day off.  At 1030, however, TJ pulled me from recreational Internet browsing to attend a mandatory engine room meeting.

I walked into a roomful of ER personnel.  Immediately, the first handed me a gift.  From this second onward, I could not wipe a smile from my face.  The gift was immaculately wrapped.  The paper, remnants of some navigational chart, won me immediately.  I may or may not have required some encouragement to move past it.  The gift?  A nonfictional salvage tale.  It was perfect.  Dad, I am sorry.  Keep trying.  You will nail it one day.

This gift was followed by a second, one addressed to “The Webbies.”  TJ and I are now the proud owners of a personal sounding tape.

Before my arrival, TJ also received a gift from the first.  Consequently, he now owns some spiffy, adjustable wrenches.  (TJ, I am sorry, but I still win this one.)

To the engine room, I gave my shipboard pride and joy: a handmade paper elf hat.  This lent itself well to several humorous pictures.

The rest of the mandatory meeting consisted of shared stories, coffee, and above all, comedy.  Pre-lunch duties brought it to a close.

TJ and I spent our remaining Christmas day deep in recreation.  I may have spent much of it comatose.

Looking back on the day, I can conclude but one thing: if the people I see around me are to be my surrogate family for the next two months, then blissfully I say, “So be it.”   I can imagine no better.