BEHIND THE MIKE

One of my fondest holiday memories occurred when I was only 23. I had just met and immediately fell in love with Christine Marie Thiel. She was just as nice as she was pretty, a rarity among teenage women.

In the process of courtship, we men are much nicer people than we will likely ever be again. We are infatuated, yes, even confused. Hormones make most of our decisions until we can gather our wits about us.

If we are lucky, we survive our stupidity and regain our equilibrium in time to realize that the hook is set. Do not resist. Follow your heart.

What made that Thanksgiving and Christmas season so special was a spur-of-the-moment decision. Christine and I decided to quietly “buy Christmas” for someone who was not as fortunate as we were.

I was partially supporting Christine as a nursing student. I was working with my dad’s construction business, writing for a half dozen newspapers and tending bar at night at the Knights of Columbus in Columbia.

Christmas was always a big deal at the Aun household, and still is today. Christine celebrates Christmas 365 days a year and even plays holiday music year-round in her car and in the house.

Christine and Christmas are synonymous, almost interchangeable. I used to accuse her parents of naming her that because Christmas was not suitable for a girl.

That autumn was gorgeous. When you are in love, you look for only the beauty in everything. Optimism abounds. Christine and I were strolling (an old-fashioned word for walking) along one evening and we came upon a neighborhood kid whom I had known from his birth. As a teenager, I delivered the now-defunct afternoon newspaper, The Columbia Record, to the family home.

We asked if he was looking forward to Christmas and he was almost gleeful. He still believed in Santa. Both Christine and I knew that despite his deep belief, Christmas would be just another day in a lot of people’s lives, this kid included.

Christine came from a typical Catholic family of 8 children. There were 11 kids in our house, so we had plenty of people on which to spend our meager funds. For some reason, this felt right to forgo so little for so many in exchange for so much for one needy kid. So we splurged for his Christmas that year. It was fair to say that it was our best Christmas ever.

Why is it, that out of nearly eight decades of Christmas seasons, this one was the most memorable? On Christmas Eve we delivered our gifts to the youngster and his mom. Both were so gracious and classy.

Later that night, we attended midnight Mass at St. Peter’s Catholic Church on Assembly Street in Columbia, along with both the Thiel and Aun clans. It was one of those special moments that are embedded in my memory.

The sign of peace is a Roman Catholic tradition. You turn to those around you and offer them a sign of peace, a handshake, a kiss; a hug or a nod across the aisle to another. After kissing Christine, I slipped a ring on her finger and asked her to marry me.

This is about as romantic as I’ll ever get. I am better with the “written” word than I am the “spoken” word. Two years later we tied the knot and began a love affair that spans nearly eight decades.

Christine always gets on me for rounding my age and stage “up” rather than “down.” Why lie? I am old and I admit it. Frankly, it is the many happy Christmases like the one we celebrated that year that make the journey not just possible but probable.

Michael Aun serves on the Advisory Board of the St. Thomas Aquinas Medical Clinic in St. Cloud, FL, which renders assistance to un-