TUPAVIEW: Christmas chestnuts
By Mike Tupa
Bartlesville Area Sports Report
I just can’t get my mind wrapped around a Christmas column.
Every time the mind light blinks on with a thought, a theme or a storyline, the lamp seems to flicker and go out.
I guess the only way to do this is to try to string together my impressions and hope somewhere in one of them is something that might help make your holiday a little nicer, a little more nostalgic or a little more meaningful.
SELF-WORTH
One of the gifts I would like give to all my readers — especially the young people — it would be to realize their self-worth as human beings. Winning or losing a game or a race doesn’t define a person’s worth.
Each young person — or all of us, for that matter — is a unique collection of many life experiences, strengths, struggles, hopes, fears, goals, joys, disappointments and intelligence. None of us are alike — none of us should compare our successes or shortcomings with someone else.
Believe me I know what some of you might be experiencing. For several years during my young teenage years we lived in poverty — no telephone, no car, sometimes no food, reliance on coal stove for warmth, old clothes and ripped tennis shoes, having our gas shut off during the winter so we didn't have hot water to bathe in. But our mom refused to let us think of ourselves as poor — convincing we were just going through temporary hard times. My sixth-grade and junior high classmates made fun of my shabby appearance and my poor self-esteem. But my mom continued to emotionally bolster my sister and me, to tell us we were as good as anybody else and that we had the potential to succeed. My sister and I both pieced together meaningful lives. I went on a two-year mission to Italy for my church, earned a college B.A. degree, served four years of honorable active duty in the Marine Corps and garnered several honors — including a spot in the Bartlesville Athletic Hall of Fame — in my career as a sportswriter. My sister also earned a college degree, fashioned herself into an exceptional employee wherever she worked and brightened the lives of all her friends and others.
NFL CHRISTMAS
On December 25, 1993, I left Oroville, California early in the morning to travel to Candlestick Park and cover the San Francisco 49ers vs. the Houston Oilers. Not only that — I had a sideline photo pass! That meant I got to be on the field the whole game, taking pictures of Steve Young, Warren Moon and others. Other than the traffic jam afterward trying to get out of San Francisco, it was a wonderful gift of opportunity.
LEAST OF THESE
One December night more than 55 years ago my sister sat at home alone while our mom worked as a cleaning lady at an office building. Without warning, my Uncle Carl stopped by our place and invited us to go with him and his family to the Christmas Village in downtown Ogden. After sharing their family outing with us, they also gave us a box of oranges. The fact they remembered two lonely children proved to be the greatest gift of all. Also during those Christmas seasons, mom often brought home a big box of chocolates or $5 people who worked at those offices had left her. The value of those kind tokens was greater than they will ever know.
— I recall the final Christmas we spent with our dad. I was 10 and my sister nine. After our family ate Christmas Eve dinner at a neighbor's house, dad drove me and sis around to see some of the outdoor Christmas displays in Eureka, Calif., while mom stayed home for final Christmas Day preparations. Another gift of memory more important than jewels.
— While going full-time to college, I worked a full-time job nights on a medical parts assembly line in order to pay for my education. My crew represented people of different backgrounds and lifestyles. But we develop a community of wonderful friendship and camaraderie. I volunteered each December to bring in Christmas music on cassettes. During our shift we sang the holiday songs together, laughed together and felt the glow of a shared holiday feeling.
— One year — when we were children — my sister and I snuck into the living room during the middle of Christmas Eve night and scoped out our gifts, even tearing little strips in the wrapping. Mom and dad figured it out but didn't have the heart to do more than orally reprimand us.
— The last Christmas I celebrated in person with my sister was 1990, when I took a bus from Southern California to Salt Lake City. Our mom had died earlier that year. Even though we spent the following Christmases apart, we always shared them, always talking on the phone while we opened the presents we had sent each other. I also saw her every summer during my vacations from Bartlesville, until her passing in 2021.
— On a more sad note, there was the Christmas week — when I was 18 — I worked as a part-time salesman at Sears. I had been dating a high school senior girl that happened to get a job on another level wrapping gifts. I had felt things weren’t going so well for us, but I held out hope. On the morning of my last shift prior to Christmas, a mutual friend handed me a Christmas card from the girl, but with strict instructions not to open it until after work. I stuck it in my back pocket. I don’t remember when I read it — when I did it absolutely shattered my heart. There, on a holiday card promoting good will and all that, she told me she wanted to break off our dating. When I got home that night, I sat in the kitchen of my Uncle and Aunt’s house — where I lived — and wept openly with relatives around. My aunt told me someday I’d look back at this experience and laugh. That someday has never happened.
— I recall the last Christmas (1989) with our mom, who already had been diagnosed with terminal cancer. There was no sobbing or depression. Mom wouldn't have put up with it. After having endured incredible life challenges, she saw death as just another incident, something new to experience. Her faith and trust in the will of God was unshakable. She wanted to enjoy as normally as much as possible every day that remained. One incident from that holiday remains concerning the death of baseball manager Billy Martin. Mom had never liked the volatile Martin. But after his passing, she became sad and sympathetic because he had squadered his potential to have a happy life and even greater career.
— If you were open to a suggestion that might enhance your celebration it would be to read "A Christmas Carol" by Charles Dickens and the very short story "Gift of the Magi" by O. Henry. Another secular work that emphasizes the birthday's meaning is the essay "What Christmas Is As We Grow Older," by Dickens. And of course hopefully you'll enjoy Luke 2, especially in a family setting.
— May Santa know your address. I'm too old not to believe in him. I've seen too many miraculous things in my life and the world around me to deny the existence of the ethereal warmth and power this jolly being represents as an agent of God's love and kindness. He embodies the material generosity of the Three Wisemen, the love of the Holy Child and His gifts of inner peace, love of family and others, good will to humankind and hope for a joyous future.
Merry Christmas.
Mike Tupa with family in 19765.
