"Why can't every day be like Christmas?" is a popular Christmas song made famous by Elvis Presley. If you turn on the radio and listen to Christmas music, it will invariably be heard. Elvis wonders why we all don't feel the way we do at Christmas throughout the rest of the year. The world would be a much better place, he admonishes.
I know it's Christmas time and I should probably be blogging about the CHRISTMAS spirit, but I would much rather blog, instead, about the AIRPORT spirit. I don't mean the cancelled flights, the frustrating delays, the lost luggage or the rude clerks. I really mean the AIRPORT SPIRIT--the wonderful feelings people feel and display in public when they see their loved ones either coming down a ramp toward them or else disappearing through a gate away from them. In many ways, the AIRPORT spirit rivals the Christmas spirit for its pure exhibition of uninhibited love, and the way our human souls recognize for a brief moment what really matters in this world.
Several weeks ago I was sitting in an airport, waiting to pick up a friend, and I had the chance to observe people. A mother and her two children (perhaps 10 and 8 years old) were waiting for someone, and the anticipation was starting to almost "bubble" out of them. They were bouncing around the seats nearest the "ONLY TICKETED PASSENGERS BEYOND THIS POINT" sign, staring down the hallway to the gates, trying to discern which little speck at the end might be their loved one. "There he is," the mother finally said happily, as she tried to restrain her kids from going beyond the ominous "DO NOT ENTER" sign. Then she looked at me and said, "After 17 years of marriage, I know his walk!" Sure enough, when the specks got bigger and came into view, the family rushed to meet the father with open arms, kisses and hugs. The smiles on the Dad, the Mom, and the kids were bigger than any smiles I've ever seen on a family during Christmas, or any other time for that matter. I don't know if the father had been away for 2 days or for 2 years--it was irrelevant--because the greeting would have been the same. That's the thing about airports--the love pours out, unabashed, from people who might otherwise avoid public displays of affection, or even private displays of affection, and for folks who have been away a short time or a long time. The airport does that to people. Not seeing a person for awhile--which is what an airport is all about--has a way of making us better appreciate that person. Or maybe it's the thought that planes go down and you may never see the person again that helps squirt the emotions right out of you when you do see them again. I'm not sure exactly what causes the AIRPORT spirit, but it is definitely there.
And it is the real McCoy. These folks aren't acting. You see it in their eyes, their smiles, the warm touches on the sleeves--and in their tears, if the traveler happens to be "going" and not "coming." I watched the same scene play out over and over again. Two elderly sisters (they had to be sisters they looked so much alike), their two gray heads almost fusing into one as they hugged "hello." Fathers and daughters. Girlfriends and boyfriends. Brothers and sisters. Friends and friends. All hugging. All kissing. All glowing. All happy beyond belief to see their loved one coming down the ramp from the gates. Staring and straining for that first glimpse. The positive energy was so thick that it could have called down the angels.
Then there was the mother and the adult daughter. At least, that was my guess. The daughter was leaving and the mother had walked her right up to the very point where no unticketed persons could enter. They talked, they teared up, they hugged, then the daughter picked up her hand luggage and turned. . . then they talked some more, hugged again, teared up again, and then the daughter took two steps. . . then they talked some more, hugged some more. . . well, you get the picture. The two found it so hard to part. The emotions were raw and were public. A lot of "I love you's" were said. In fact, the number of "I love you's" said in an airport, I'll bet, are far greater than the number of "I love you's" said on Christmas morning around the tree.
Yes, Elvis asks why every day can't be like Christmas. My hope for the world, however, is much greater than that. Why can't every day be like the airport? Because if every day were like the airport, what a wonderful world this would be!