As I mention at the beginning of this essay, I wrote it a few weeks before Christmas. My first thought was to post it a week or so after Christmas, possibly even after New Year’s Day, because I thought it might not be upbeat enough for the Christmas season. But in fact, you’ll discover as you read that it has a happy ending. And after pondering the situation, I realize that gift-giving, for a lot of people, is a big part of Christmas. It is an opportunity, albeit flawed and rife with possibilities of error, to express love for those who are particularly special in our lives. Since December began, during meals I have been re-watching Christmas movies and Christmas episodes of series such as the Simpsons, Family Guy, American Dad, and Futurama, and it is amazing that so many of these focus on the topic of selecting and giving gifts. This essay concerns the greatest gift, one we have all received regardless of merit or lack thereof. It is freely received year-round by a lot of people, regardless of the calendar date. And so here are my words for you, on Christmas day, celebrating the gift of life.
I’m writing this a couple of weeks before Christmas, but I probably won’t publish it until after the holidays. It deals with some intense emotions, and I don’t want to bum anyone out. At the same time, I think that by the end it will ultimately be uplifting.
To dive right in: I had a down day. A very down day. Most of the time I am able to maintain a state of serenity and contentment, but once in awhile, every week or so, my mood takes a dive and I struggle, as if I am fighting to stay afloat in a sea of depression. The two main causes of this are part of my ongoing situation. One is that I live alone and I often deal with intense loneliness. You see, I’m an empty-nester. My ex and I raised our family in Greece, but as my sons matured into teenhood and adulthood, a massive economic crisis hit the country, and opportunities for higher education or employment became nonexistent. I decided I had to get them out of there and off to the States, where they had a better chance to thrive. My wife stayed behind with the youngest and I left with the rest of the boys, those, at least, who were not already in the States. Eventually, when she saw how well the boys were doing, she brought the youngest over too. So for about a decade I was a single parent, and my main focus in life was the welfare of my progeny. But then, one by one they left and went off on their own. A few years ago the youngest moved out, and I was left alone. That is as it should be; my sons should be off pursuing their destinies, and to a degree knowing that they are doing well mitigates the pain of loss. But I am used to being surrounded by a large family, and now there is just me. You would think that I would eventually get used to it. But I haven’t. As I said, I can usually keep my equilibrium and remain serene and content, but once in a while something tips the scales and I founder.
The other cause of my discontent is my financial situation. In Greece I taught English as a second language and I got quite good at it. I was well paid by the language schools I worked for and had as many private students as I could handle. My intention, when I returned to the States, was to continue teaching. When we landed in San Diego, I went around to every language school in the city and presented my resume and letters of recommendation, and some of the schools were impressed enough to want to hire me. However, a technicality prevented them. They said that I had to have a college degree, and I didn’t. So I looked for another job. I searched for months. I applied at a multitude of companies for all sorts of positions, including warehouse work, driver’s assistant for UPS, and salesman at a hardware store. A tech company almost hired me but then backed off because of my age; I would have been at least a couple of decades older than anyone else in the office. In desperation, I looked for writing work online, and eventually I found some, ghostwriting articles and blog posts. For awhile I worked exclusively for a private Medicare firm, writing articles for their blog, but most of the time it was piecework. Every day I had to search for assignments. But I usually found them. I wrote articles on travel, health, sports, business, finance, literature, and a variety of other topics. For a long time it was enough to keep my sons and I with enough to eat and a roof over us. A few years ago, though, those markets started to shut down. More and more businesses began to settle for inferior but cheaper AI-authored material, and one by one the websites where I had found employment closed. Now I am living off the scrapings of what was once a thriving occupation, and I keenly feel the loss of income. I barely get by month to month.
The thing that knocked me off my stability this morning was an email from the management of my apartment complex that they were sending around new contracts for the tenants to sign. Just a few months ago the manager had told me that they were doing away with contracts and all tenants would pay month to month. This sounded good to me, as I also had received notice of a substantial rent increase, and I was unsure if I would be able to come up with it. Month by month rental meant that I was not tied to an agreement for a specific amount of time.
Anyway, the email shouldn’t have thrown me for such an extreme loop, but it did. I wondered what the hell? What is it all for? It is so hard to survive, and all I had to look forward to was continuing loneliness. That’s when the thought struck me.
Life is a gift. Every moment of it. And most people seem to realize it and struggle to survive even under horrific conditions. Let’s face it: I might be lonely, but I have a good, clean, safe place to live, enough to eat, and loved ones who care for me, even if they are not in close proximity. People cling to the precious gift of life even under horrific conditions: as soldiers at war, as prisoners, as inmates in concentration camps, as castaways in remote locations, as patients in hospitals, despite agonizing injuries, illnesses, traumas, loss of limbs, loss of loved ones, loss of possessions. Through all of these things and more people strive to hold onto the gift of life. Yes, life is beset with sorrow; it is part of the human condition. However, it is also suffused with joy: the joy of accomplishment, of the attainment of goals, of the appreciation of natural beauty, and most of all of the love we share with those close to us and with all of our fellow humans. The fact is that life is precious but it is also finite. Sometimes we lose sight of our mortality, but sometimes it is good to be reminded of it, so that we cherish each moment and spend it wisely.
I promised you a happy ending. Well, the realization that life is a gift should be cause enough for joy, but here’s more. The problem with the lease I mentioned, the one that had set off my depression, was satisfactorily solved. When I went to the office and asked about it, the manager assured me that nothing had changed. I was still renting on a month by month basis; the leases were formalities insisted upon by the central office that did not apply to me. He said that all I needed to do if I had to move was to give notice twenty days early, and there would be no fines or other penalties. This reminded me of a lesson that I have had to learn many times in my life. Sometimes when we receive what we perceive to be bad news or circumstances appear adverse, we anticipate worst-case scenarios instead of patiently persevering until we find out for sure. At least that’s frequently been true of me. Often, as events transpire, I am reminded that things are seldom as bad as I imagine them.
John Walters 