Christmas with Jesus in 1985, Santa Barbara, California


It's Christmastime as I write this, and lately I've been doing some sentimental journeying into my favorite Christmases past. And one of my favorite Christmas memories is the one I spent with Jesus, in 1985 in Santa Barbara.

Jesus was the brother of my next-door neighbor José, and I distinctly remember going over there at Christmastime so that I could remember being with Jesus, Joseph, and Mary. And if you're not familiar with Hispanic names, it was Hay-SOOS, ho-SAY, and Maria. I've always had a sense of humor like that, which puzzles some people, and which I like to call being facetious. If you're offended, or you don't understand, you're probably saying, "Are you being funny?" to which my answer would be, "Well, apparently not." But this still makes me smile to this day.

When I tell people that I lived in Santa Barbara for a few years, most people imagine that I was wealthy, living the lifestyle of the rich and famous, but in reality I was over on the poor side of town, by Milpas. It was a good early lesson to me to see how people live on small incomes in expensive places, which most people never even see, or even think about.

My apartment, which was the size of a large broom closet, and which had been created illegally, was at Cacique and Soledad Streets, in what had originally been a large house. There were a LOT of individual apartments built into it, and other than the cars around it you would never know that it wasn't just a nice big house. It was fine for me, I was OK with just a place to hang my hat, and I was lucky to have even found a place to live, because I had accepted a job in Santa Barbara before I'd found out how expensive rents were.

My next-door neighbor, on Cacique Street, worked full-time doing landscape maintenance at Santa Barbara City College during the day, and then was a night watchman at various places all night. He slept in his truck, and really didn't spend much time at home. He must have done, I figured, because he had a lot of kids. He and I became friends over the fence and he was pleased to find that I could speak a little Spanish. He even invited me over a few times for his carne asada and beer parties.

The world of Jesus, José, and Maria fascinated me. I had lived in Phoenix for a few years, going to ASU, and I knew plenty of Hispanic people, but very few people who were genuinely Mexican. And that's pronounced  Meh-Hee-CAANO, and spoken with pride. I know that I stuck out like a sore thumb when I visited, and most people who saw me, with my blue eyes and my Lotus sweater, would never imagine that I would be welcomed in that world. But they welcomed me, because that's what Jesus would do.

¡Feliz Navidad!
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