My "Best Christmas Ever" Story

Charles Sullivan
https://linktr.ee/CCfromNJ

PART I

The last time I had seen Justin was in August 1993.  I was just finishing up playing basketball in a park in Nampa, Idaho.  His uncle’s car was driving by and he was looking out of the backseat window, right at me, whether his uncle said “Look, there is your father” or not may never be known.  I did know that I was very upset.  His uncle could take him all over town but his father could not.  Not only that, his uncle did not make him wear his seatbelt!  Also knowing I would be leaving Idaho for good in just two more weeks.  It was a bad day. Justin was almost 3 ½.

The last time I saw Nicole was June 1999.  My mother, my then estranged wife, and I went for a picnic at Johnson Park in Piscataway, New Jersey.  We ate, played a while at the playground, and even fed a fawn.  Nicole was a week shy of turning 2.

It’s a coincidence, I just now realized, that both of these stories start in a park.

Fast forward several months: while in prison, sometime during the year 2000, the idea occurred to me to develop the goal of having a photograph of myself taken with both of my children on my lap.  The dream changed a bit when I concluded that Justin would be almost 12 when I was to be released in 2002 and probably wouldn’t go for sitting on anybody’s lap.  Even less so by the time I track him down and get us together. Whenever that will be.

Upon my release from prison, on February 1, 2002, unfortunately, the photo dream was not a priority.  Finding a job, taking care of my ailing mother (who was 65 at the time), catching up on my bills, including child support arrearages, that were growing during my incarceration, getting involved in a local church, reconnecting with the few friends who were still supporting me and finding new friends, positive ones…. These were just a few of the things on my plate.  I had prayed about it a lot and had asked others to pray too.

Time went on and little happened to reach the goal.  Child support and their health care premiums were taken from my paycheck every two weeks.  The prayer slowly changed from “Lord, make this happen” to “Lord, this is my request” to “Lord, please do what’s best for my children.”

As the months passed, Satan kept whispering in my ear, “Looks like what’s best for your children is that they remain far from you.”  Each time I see a parent holding their child’s hand I am reminded of this.  In my involvement with the ministry, I met several kids who hadn’t had contact with their father in many years. One or two who had no memories of their fathers at all.  Knowing some fathers don’t care and yet I was a father who cared but could do nothing.

Two years pass and there is no progress in this matter.  Short of spending tens of thousands of dollars on private investigators and attorneys in multiple states, all remedies at my disposal were exhausted.

My 35th birthday rolled around, Friday, June 25, 2004, it hit me particularly hard.  Five years since I had given my heart to the Lord. I was afraid of growing old and alone. My kids who know where, both my marriages long over, weren't in a relationship in the two-plus years since my release.  Yes, I had a good job, a good car, a strong involvement with my church, keeping ahead of my bills, and even managing to save a bit of money along the way but knowing the significance of my goal of being a father to my children was beyond my reach and maybe it is what God thought was best for my kids would be for to remain far from me. This was a tough pill to swallow.

Saturday, June 26, 2004, the day after my birthday, I told my mother that she could take me out for my birthday, like usual.  This meant that I would be driving her to someplace that she wanted to go and couldn’t find anybody else to go with her.  Today she planned to go to a German Restaurant in Atlantic Highlands, NJ (The name escapes me now but it no longer exists. It was knocked down to build condos a few years later).

This place was in an amazing location, right near Mt Mitchell, which is the highest point, closest to the ocean along the Atlantic Coast in North America.  If you look from the “mountain” you can see the vast Atlantic Ocean about a quarter-mile to the East, the Sandy Hook National Recreation Area, and half a mile to the North East (the northernmost shore point in NJ). To the North and North West are the Raritan Bay and if the weather is clear enough, you can see Brooklyn and the skyscrapers of Lower Manhattan about 30 miles away.

I hadn’t been to a German restaurant in a long time.  Even before my prison bid and before I had given up drinking in 1999.  There were a few dishes that I really enjoyed when I was in Germany, 1987-1990.  Don’t remember which dishes I ordered that evening but I did stuff myself.  On the walls were decorations and maps to build up the atmosphere.  Did quite a bit of reminiscing, at least within my own head.

One of the decorations was an advertisement for Asbach, which is the only non-flavored imported Brandy.  It’s made in a small town in the middle of wine country, named Rüdesheim-am-Rhein. I had even been there a few times.

This is Rüdesheim, a UNESCO World Heritage Site.  Also in this town was my first encounter with long-haired Dachshunds. 

So by this point, my mind is swimming. I’m feeling down because of my birthday, sad because of my lack of progress on the photo dream, reminiscing about happier days far away and long ago.  Maybe I can have one drink? It’s not like I would be ordering a bottle of wine.  I could have one Asbach and Coke and be perfectly fine to drive.  It’s my birthday after all, shouldn’t I be celebrating?  Even a trip to the bathroom wasn’t helpful, I had seen that there were several large bottles (ten-plus liters) of the desired drink behind the bar!

Blessed by my mother’s impatience, by the time I returned from the bathroom, she was paying the check.  Awaiting for my return so the total would be known by me, so I could leave the correct tip, there was no chance of the desired indulgence. No opportunity to gratify the desire. No more deliberation or consideration. It was just as well.

Driving away, Mom announced that she must stop in Keansburg on the way home, so she can play the “pushing quarters” game.  Keansburg, NJ is the lowest ebb of the typical “Jersey Shore Amusement Boardwalk”. Chiefly because it is not actually on the Atlantic Ocean but the Raritan Bay.  It has a few carnival-style rides and games of (fat) chance and a few eateries and bars.  The “pushing quarters” game is an electric device with moving parts.  What the player does is put in a quarter in hopes of landing it in a good place, with the intent that your quarter will push off some of the quarters that are already there onto the next lower level which will displace the quarters already on that level and so on.  In the ideal scenario, your quarter will cause an avalanche of coins that will fall into a collection chute at the bottom.  Each coin that reaches this bin will dispense a token or tickets that can be redeemed for prizes that are not worth nearly as much as the legal tender you actually put into the machine in the first place.  You can then take these tokens or tickets and trade them for worthless junk and crappy trinkets.  I have seen similar devices in gambling casinos that reward the player with real quarters, a good thing my mother never found those.

We park ($10), stroll the boardwalk (to go straight through would take a maximum of 10 minutes), walk onto the beach for a few minutes, and play some games.  We were there for about 45 minutes in total.  Approaching the eastern terminus there are only two things left, the bathroom and batting cages.  I give my mother a dollar to go to the bathroom (you are expected to leave a tip) and a five for me to go into the batting cages.  So I am standing at the telephone pole, trying to put the bill into the token dispenser so I can embarrass myself by swinging away into the ether (makes just about as much sense as ‘pushing quarters’). The silly dispenser will just not accept my money no matter how often I try.  Then out of nowhere comes an unexpected “Hello Daddy”. I look down and I recognize Nicole instantly.

By now I had read several articles about reconnecting with your children and others after a long absence and only by the Grace of God, did the right things come to mind. Instead of me blurting out something stupid or even worse (according to said articles) grab her in a bear hug and scream and cry, jump up and down, and make a scene. I bend my knees and squat so we are about the same height. I mention the first thing I notice, she is eating, “Hi Princess. What are you eating?” I ask. “A shish kabob,” she says in a way that you would figure a seven-year-old would.  

We just chatted about some basic things, her birthday (which is two weeks before my own), how she just finished first grade, and how she just broken her glasses the day before trying to climb a tree. The whole point was to get her talking about things, anything, things she knows about.  As far as she is concerned I am a stranger.  Must remain calm and happy at the same time or she may retreat to the natural tendency to shy away from an unknown. 

Time was lost to us. So was any awareness of the busy amusements around us. How long were we talking? Were there people walking around us?  I had no clue. She had all of my focus.

This had been the desire of years’ worth of prayers, not only mine but of many others. I’d even quit praying about it, just figured that it was not the Lord’s will and left it at that. Now, this was the consummation of His Perfect timing.

True to my form at the time, there was a digital camera in my shirt pocket. So I extracted it. “May I please take your picture?”
“Ok…why?”
“Cause you are the most beautiful girl in the whole world.”
She giggled. I took several shots.  Eventually, my mother came to mind. Looking around I realized she was still in the Ladies' Room, typical.
“Your Grandmother is in the bathroom, let’s keep an eye out for her.”
“Ok. My Nana is over there,” she points in the other direction. My former mother-in-law and her perpetual fiancé were smiling at us. I smile and wave.
  We keep chatting about nothing important, just enjoying the moment, as I come to accept how monumental this moment truly is.  Eventually, my mother departs the restroom and is looking around for me. I glance at my former mother-in-law and point to her. She nods.
“There is your grandma, in the blacktop, maybe you could go say ‘hi’ to her?”
   "Ok” and she walks over there slowly, all the while holding and nibbling on her shish kabob.  To make an already long story short, (too late) we chatted and took some more photos for about another half an hour. Then it was approaching someone’s bedtime. We exchanged hugs and kisses and I gave Nicole and her Nana my phone number and they promised to call soon.  Once in the car, I cried.

Come to find out a year later, my former mother-in-law saw me and said to Nicole “There is your daddy, go and say ‘hi’.”  This from the same woman who I never heard utter a decent word toward me in all the years I knew her. God is good, all of the time.

Things had finally come together for Nicole and me. It was a few weeks before we got to be with each other again. In early August I took us all to church and Chuck E. Cheese (Nicole, Grandma, Nana, and my ex-wife). Of course, I paid for everything. This ended up being the General Rule of doing anything with my kids; I pay for 100% of things for all of the people who come (there were some exceptions to this rule).

One of the highlights of the rest of 2004 was the day after Christmas. After church and after giving her a new computer, I took Nicole and her Grandma to see The Nutcracker at the Paper Mill Playhouse in Millburn, NJ. Spent quite a bit of money on orchestra seats, a red velvet dress, and new shoes that she would probably never get to wear again, you know how kids grow.

Another notable occurrence was when we went pumpkin picking. We rode in a horse-drawn cart, played in the corn maze and Nicole even took a ride on a horse.  All of these things were great and I was very thankful for this tremendous blessing but still very aware that this was only part of the goal.  One down, one still left to go.

On New Year’s Eve, I attended the Watch Night Service at the church. I was allotted 10 minutes to reflect on the past year and speak about the upcoming year, 2005, before the congregation.  Started out expressing my thanksgiving for everything the Lord had appropriated to me and how it could have only been Him and His grace that made it happen.  For the New Year, the supplication was for the other parts of the ‘Photo Dream’ to become a reality.  Some may say that eventually, I would run into Nicole, being we lived less than 30 miles from each other but Justin lived in an unknown place.

“HAPPY STORY”

PART II

Kentucky, Louisiana, and Missouri were each claiming to be the correct recipients of the Child Support funds withheld from my paycheck for my son.  Much later came to find out my ex-wife moved often and in each new state went to the local Welfare Agency and claimed that I had never given her a penny since the day Justin was born.  When moving from state A to state B to state C, she never informed state A of the relocation and submitted a new Welfare Application. She sometimes used her maiden name, sometimes her new husband’s name, and sometimes used mine.

Fast forward a few weeks to early February 2005, one morning in my inbox was an odd email. The sender who was using an anonymous remailer claimed to work for the state agency that handled the funds collected from payroll deductions and processed them into the new Federal Distribution System (for Child Support withholding).  He or she asserted that they could get me any information on my children that I wanted…..for a price.  My reply was one of high doubt. “How can you prove to me that your claim is true?”

The next email detailed all of the values of each of the paychecks received thus far in 2005; gross, net, all of the withholding, and even the bank information regarding my direct deposit.  It was enough to convince me. My next reply was that I wanted my son’s address.  Their response was they wanted 100% of the net pay of my next paycheck and they obviously knew my net from my past few checks.  My first thought was to turn this joker into the proper authorities but the more I prayed about it, the more comforting the thought came of making the payment. Then one morning I was just promoted to send the email confirming my acceptance of this offer. Then I was given instructions on how to do it.

Payday morning came and upon checking with the bank, copied and pasted the deposit’s value into a separate window containing the payment (these were the days before tabbed browsing).  Went to work as usual, checked my email from work and there was my son’s street address (I got my first smartphone in June of that year). I don’t remember the exact date but it was just before Valentine’s Day 2005.

(A few months later I shared my story with someone who mentioned that he also wanted to reconnect with his kids. I emailed the stranger but the message bounced back instantly. He had closed that account.)

After all the agonizing I did about making the deal in the first place, I had spent zero thought or prayer on what to do once I had the address.  One of the first things I did was run the address through a system we used at work that provided me with a phone number.  I ran these through Yahoo search, in the days before Google. Now what do I do? Call? Write? Send a gift? Then it occurred to me…his birthday was coming up next month. That would give me some time to put together a longer letter and put some thoughts together on what else to send.

That Sunday at church, I went up to the altar call to thank the Lord for what had been done. I also pledged to the Lord that as long as he was living under his stepfather’s roof, not a bad thing about him, my ex-wife or former mother-in-law would come from my mouth, even if it was the truth.

Now there was a timeline.  For the next month, a letter was put together (dozens of drafts and rewrites). I bought a phone card for him if he wanted to call me and some other little things. Also scanned all his baby photos that were in my possession and burned them onto a CD. The plan was to send these things with a birthday card and some cash via a UPS Second-Day Air envelope. This way there would be a record of who signed for it.  Also, I had told nobody of these activities. I had sent birthday and Christmas gifts to him previously, in the 1990s, to addresses I thought were his and to his grandmother’s house in Idaho which was never acknowledged in any way. I surely didn’t want to get my mother excited only to have her disappointed if things didn’t go as I had hoped.

I shipped out the envelope on the Friday before his 15th Birthday, which may have been a mistake, now instead of just two days of apprehension, there was the weekend to fret over also. It seemed that I was checking the progress via the tracking number every two or three hours, even during the night.  Also was checking the weather and airport conditions on the expected route to be prepared for any additional delays (there weren’t any).  Tuesday morning came and the package status was finally “on truck for delivery”! Knowing that his house was outside of town and it wasn’t Next Day Air, the delivery wouldn’t be until later in the afternoon or evening. Don’t think I ate anything all day!

Just before I went to bed, about 9 pm, there was one last check on UPS.com for another update. Now it showed the package was delivered and signed for by his mother. I even spent the extra money to get the image of the signature. I recognized her handwriting immediately, from the false love letters she wrote me during Desert Storm (which I still had at that point).

There was nothing more I could do at that point. My next idea if there was no response was to call him directly on his birthday proper, which was two more days away. I went to bed at peace knowing everything that was in my power to do was done. The next morning's email check, there was a message from my ex-wife. She said that she received the package, gave it to Justin, and said to him “Do whatever you want to do. Take your time and think about it.”  My reply was very basic “Thank you.”

Went to work with a smile and with the hope of hearing something soon. Before the end of the day, I had received an email from Justin with photos. That evening, he and I were chatting via Yahoo webcam chat, with my mother looking over my shoulder.  We talked about school and his friends and the computer projects he was working on (that’s my boy!) for maybe an hour. I had broadband but he lived out in the ‘country’ and only had dial-up.

Over the next few weeks, we really got to talking. I even got him and his little sister on webcam chat before March was done.

Being confident of this very thing, that He which hath begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ. Philippians 1:6

Two parts down, one to go. Now if I can just get the three of us in the same room with a camera…..

“HAPPY STORY”

PART III

Through the course of the Spring of 2005, I spent time with Nicole, at least two or three times a month.  We see a lot of movies and spend lots of time at Old Country Buffet, where I end up taking her, both her grandmothers, Nanna’s fiancé, Nicole’s little half-brother, Michael, and my ex-wife.  It gets expensive after a while.

Meanwhile, I am still communicating with Justin.  I often drop hints of us getting together. I even go so far as sending him a copy of New York City for Dummies and printing out directions from my house to his, 1001 miles away, and keeping it in my car’s glove box.

There was an upcoming event for the church at Hershey Park on the weekend of Nicole’s 8th birthday and by a miracle of miracles, Christine let my Mother and I take her for the weekend.  I put out the money for the tickets and the hotel (not cheap).  It also worked out that those were the last days I was permitted to take off from work before the busy season, Father’s Day through Thanksgiving.

As the Hershey trip approached, Christine began to hedge and haw about letting us take Nicole. Maybe she wants me to take the rest of her family too.  I check if the hotel is booked full, nor can I get any more special ticket packages.  At one point I got so frustrated, that I told Justin that I was about to donate the paid tickets back to the church and since I already had the vacation days, I could drive out to see him that weekend.

Eventually, Christine came around and not only allowed Nicole to go, but she even allowed her to spend Thursday night at our house and take off from school on Friday, so we could get an early start.

The Hershey trip went well. Nicole
had a memorable birthday but I was feeling guilty to be spending all of this time and money on only one child and not the other.  Telling other people about this, I get the obvious suggestion: spend time and money on Justin to create some balance.  Eventually, the idea develops to bring him to New Jersey for Christmas.

I floated this idea to Justin’s mom via email first. (It’s still July at this point). She spends some time thinking about it. She gets back to me a day or two later. She feels that she should come with him, so he isn’t surrounded by strangers the whole time.  We toss ideas back and forth for a few days while looking really hard at the calendar for December.  Christmas Day would be Sunday and his school break began on Wednesday the 21st.  We came up with a tentative itinerary where Justin and Katie fly East on the 21st together.  She flies home alone on Friday the 23rd and Justin flies home on Wednesday the 28th where she will pick Justin up at the airport in St. Louis.  Now all I have to do is try to find the money to make this all happen.  She isn’t paying for anything.  To cement the deal, I promise the greatest 1 day NYC Tour for December 22nd.  I also have to pay for hotel parking and gas in St. Louis.  Pay for a hotel for Katie and Justin for December 21-23, and then he can stay at our place once Katie goes home.

If this wasn’t going to happen, I was offered the chance to go with the church to a post-Katrina New Orleans Christmas.

I had considered asking my mother for some funds to cover this but came up with the idea that this could be a surprise for her. (But someone leaves a message on the phone just before Thanksgiving “praying for your son’s trip to New Jersey” and she hears that and freaks out. I almost have to send an ambulance for her).

Eventually, I approached my boss and the company advanced me $1200, about half of what I needed to make it happen.  By September 1st I emailed Katie it’s a go! I’ll figure out a way to make all this happen. I raised a bit by selling stuff on eBay.

As I am playing around with different travel websites trying to figure out a way to pinch as many pennies as possible.  With some experimentation, I discover that on one site in particular if I put NYC in as the destination I get all the New York area airports as options but if I put in EWR (the code for Newark International) I will also get Philadelphia International, which is more than 100 miles from New York but with Newark being 12 miles west of the city it’s less than the magic 100-mile limit.

With time and driving considerations in mind, I came up with the plan of flying them from St. Louis to Philadelphia via Cleveland on December 21st.  I picked them up in Philly. See the Liberty Bell and such. Then bring them up to Woodbridge.  Fly Katie home from Newark on December 23rd (The Friday before Christmas, very expensive) and fly Justin home from Newark on December 28th, saving $250.  I make the reservations and pay a deposit.  I’m not getting the loan from work until November. I even make reservations at a local Days Inn for the 21-23rd.  It’s the cheapest national chain hotel in our area. I bought the tickets the day after Veteran’s Day.

On the Sunday after Thanksgiving, I had taken Nicole and my mother out for lunch after church. We often ended up at the Old Country Buffet. It was close to Nanna's house.  After lunch, I was told I was taking my mother out to buy Justin a Christmas present. I had already coordinated with Katie via email that Grandma would get him a portable CD player.

Now we are in Target in Linden, NJ. I wanted to go there because they had a portrait studio and I wanted to ask about sitting.  I was talking to the poor clerk who was so swamped with a long line of impatient children and their parents who wouldn’t let them mess up their holiday portrait outfits.  The clerk told me it’s impossible to get a sitting appointment before Christmas.

“What about after Christmas?”

“Oh, you can just walk in whenever the store is open, no appointment necessary.”

More of the plan falls into place. Next, it’s to the electronics department. There are several portable CD players on the shelf and we are looking at features and prices.  The choice is narrowed down to two models. Today I can’t quite remember the difference between the two that constituted the quandary but there was a feature of one that wasn’t on the other and we were stuck in the decision process.

One of the many great things my father often said was “When in doubt, call and ask”. (This is the days before cellular phones.)  Outcomes my cell from my pocket. I call Justin’s house, no answer.  I tried Katie’s cell and while the phone was ringing it occurred to me… I had not spoken to her on the phone since 1993! Only have communicated with her via email these past few months. I go into a near panic, then I chicken out. Often I would give my credit card to Nicole so she could pay for meals and purchases. (She always got a kick out of it and made her feel involved in the transactions.)  I hand Nicole my phone, “ask for Katie” I say.

“Hello, Katie? This is Nicole.” Mom and I laugh.

“We are at the store buying Justin’s present….”

Eventually, I got on the phone. Katie is in a car with Justin but she made him put his headphones on.  We find out which CD player to get and then end the call. The awkward moment passed with no fatalities, just some laughs.

December has come, finally.  I’ve done all I can to prepare. Even made two trial runs to the Philadelphia Airport which I hadn’t driven to since 1987.  From there to the Independence National Historical Area. I want it to look like I know where I’m going when the Big Day arrives.

The only possible issue is the threat of a transit strike in NYC starting sometime the week before Christmas. Tuesday the 20th arrives. It’s the evening of my workplace holiday party but my mind is 1000 miles away. Before getting home, a text message comes in “At the airport hotel, ready for the flight tomorrow morning.” Needless to say, I didn’t sleep much that night. Spent quite a bit of time tracking a storm passing through Cleveland where Justin had connecting flights.

I’m up earlier than I need to be on Wednesday and I am itching to get started with the day. I ended up departing about an hour and a half before I was scheduled to, just couldn’t sit still at home any longer.

At the church, they are conducting the Angel Tree gift distribution and I spend a little time there with them asking for their prayers. Leaving there at about 10:30 with a budget of 90 minutes for the drive and another 20 minutes to park and get as close to the gate as possible.  The flight is scheduled to arrive shortly after 1:00 pm. Just as I’m about to leave the church I get an automated text message “The plane has left Cleveland for Philly right on time.”

The drive to the airport is unremarkable. Along the way, many text messages come in, well-wishers and others asking for updates. Later I found out my blog was receiving a record number of visits, and folks checking for updates (I had been updating it via my phone, some with photos, not bad for 2005!).

Parking is fine. When I enter the terminal a little past Noon and check the arrivals board shows the flight is due in only 15 minutes!?!?!?  A check with a uniformed customer service agent reveals that airlines purposely post arrival times later than they really expect in case the flight is 15-20 minutes behind the plan…they still are not “late”. This time cushion is built into the system.

Moving as close to the gate as possible, I post myself near the security checkpoint but with the angle, I can see a reflection of the people exiting the secured area off a large pane of one-way glass. Right behind me was an “arrivals” monitor. Shortly after finding the perfect place to wait, the notice changes to “arrived”. I sent Katie a text message “Welcome to Philly, I am waiting just past the security checkpoint.”  Taking a photo of the monitor, it posted to my blog with the caption “any minute now”.

Eventually, it felt like forever, their reflection can be seen in the glass.  My prayer of “Help” shouts louder than my prayer of Thanksgiving. Never believing that this would ever come, now the moment was here. Walking up to the portal, having to pay especially close attention to not trip over my own two feet.

Justin steps through the checkpoint and looks around. I allowed him to see me looking at him and smiling and didn't want the bear hug to be a total surprise. My steps are slow as my arms go around him for the first time in 13 years. 

“Thank God you are finally here,” I say out loud. 

Then I let him go slowly and pull away. Now I am standing in front of my ex-wife, which I’m unprepared for, totally.  I guess that my brain was still in a “hugging mood” so my arms went around her too. “Thank you for coming.” She wasn’t expecting that. Her eyes are bugged out.

We walk over to the baggage claim via the lady's room making small talk. “How was your flight?”, “Are you hungry?”, “is your watch on the right time?”  Their luggage comes up the chute, we pile into my car and head towards the Old City. Even though two dry runs we go right past the exit and have to scramble around the local street to find our way back. In my own defense, the dress rehearsals were in the dark. We were now in the daylight.

We parked in an underground garage which Justin marveled at.  Saw the Liberty Bell, Independence Hall, and the original Supreme Court building. Took lots of photos and got onto the road before the rush hour began.

At the time, the right rear shock of my car had lost part of its rubber boot, and every bump in the road brought on a low banging in the passenger compartment. It was a loud ride back to Woodbridge.  When we were approaching New Brunswick my phone rang. It was home. 

“Christine and Nicole are here waiting for you.”

“We are in New Brunswick, 20 minutes out.” The news is shared with Justin and Katie.

The only person more excited than me in this whole situation was Nicole. She even wanted Justin to come the Friday before so he could go to her 3rd-grade holiday concert. We eventually pull up to the house which, not surprisingly, Katie recognizes from her one trip there in 1990.

My idea for the entrance was for Justin to come in the house last, once my camera was out and ready. My mother opened the door before we even got to the steps. “Justin, wait out here for a minute.” Katie entered the house, followed by me. Coats are taken off. Introductions and greetings are made. By now Nicole is about to bounce off the wall and my camera is out and ready. “Ok, Justin come on in.”

Before he even gets both feet inside, he has his 8-year-old sister, who has never seen him, in his arms and his grandmother, who hasn’t seen him in more than 15 years (when he was four months old) two steps away. I take many photos.

My mother’s idea (read: order) was for us all to exchange Christmas gifts at this point. Then for all of us to go out to dinner. My point to her was that my gift to everybody was this big trip and reunion.  She told me that wasn’t good enough, which was something she often said to me. I don’t remember everything that was exchanged but I bought all the lady's velvet scarves from work. I remembered that they retailed for $49 each, but I don't remember how much I paid. My mother’s was silver striped to match a blouse I got her previously. Katie’s was pink because her email address at the time was “pinkdevil1968” or something like that.  Nicole’s was leopard print and I don’t recall what Christine’s was.  For Justin, I purchased the domain name Jabber1990.com for a year to match his Yahoo and MSN screen names.

Justin got me a “Great State: Missouri” T-shirt. I never wore it. (It was too small.)  I kept it in a hangar in a dry-cleaning bag until my civil rights were violated and lost all of my “worldly possessions” in 2012.

By now almost everybody was thinking about dinner. When Christine announced, “Let’s go to Jose Tejas, my treat”. I can’t recall in the 10 years of knowing her for her to offer anything like this. If my mind wasn’t blown away by the mercy of the Lord that day, this would have done it.

Katie asked, “What’s Jose Tejas?”

“It’s a Tex-Mex place. Very good food, great service.”

We load up into two cars and move on out for the 10-minute drive. Being a Wednesday, there wasn’t much of a wait. (Had to wait 2 hours before.) Soon we are all sitting around the round table and looking at menus. We placed our orders (my usual was half beef/half chicken fajitas). Before the salsa and chips come I suggest we pray. I grab Nicole’s hand on my right and Christine’s on my left and everyone follows suit.  Don’t quite remember what I said but it must have been quite a bit. At one point Christine pulled on my arm to tell me “Enough already”. When amen was finally said, the waitress was patiently waiting for us to finish, with our drinks, chips, and salsa. Some of our neighbors were staring at us. To God be the glory for the great things He had done. I am surely not embarrassed by praying in public.

 “Must give praise to whom it’s all due. Whosoever, therefore shall be ashamed of me and my words….of him also will the Son of Man be ashamed when He cometh…Mark 8:38”

While looking to my right, there, finally, are both of my children sitting together, next to their long-suffering grandmother. Never in a million years could this have happened without the Lord’s involvement. It cost me a lot of money to make it happen but it is worth every penny!

Then glancing to my left there are both of my ex-wives. Holy Shit! What am I doing here with them?! Both of them at that! I should have realized that this was going to happen but had spent no thought on the issue.

Dinner came and it was enjoyed by all, even Nicole, who was a picky eater.  Christine goes to pay the bill and my mother leaves the tip. Christine and Nicole go straight home. She has school in the morning. My mother decided she needed to go straight home, even though we were passing the hotel on the way, which worked out because Justin needed some Tums before long. I was able to stop by the store on the way to the hotel half an hour later.

We also swung by the church where they were just about to close after an eventful day of their own, getting Christmas gifts and food to over 250 families.  We also stopped by the Thomas Edison Memorial Tower, the site of his original Menlo Park Factory, now Edison Township. The birthplace of the light bulb. Katie remembered it from 1990 and requested we stop and see it.

Day 2 of Justin’s trip was the promised one-day New York at Christmas tour but there was one hiccup: The threatened transit strike had come to pass.  We went to a Dunkin Donuts for breakfast and there was a TV with the news on while we are eating.  At one point there was on the screen a helicopter shot of a line of people several blocks long waiting to get into the 125th Street Metro-North train station for a ride to Grand Central Terminal at 42nd Street. 

“We’re going into that?” Justin asks. 

I tell him not to worry. No buses, no subways. It was going to be an interesting day.  After breakfast we drove over the Goethals Bridge into Staten Island, making special note of the place that was to be a planned NASCAR track. Justin is a big NASCAR fan. (Eventually, the track plan gets canceled.) We drove on towards the Staten Island Ferry. After parking, we walked to the Staten Island 9/11 Memorial. I’m pointing out different things we will be seeing from the boat.  We get on the boat, passing the Statue of Liberty on the port side and viewing the  Verrazano-Narrows Bridge and Brooklyn on the starboard.

Once on Manhattan Island, we visit Battery Park, walk up Broadway, visit Wall Street, City Hall Park, and the Brooklyn Bridge. We also see the South Street Seaport and Pier 17. Then walk to the World Trade Center site. At this time it’s still mostly a hole in the ground, a 16-acre hole.

While standing on Church Street in front of the wall with the names of the victims Katie’s cell phone rings. 

“Hello…No, I can’t work for you tonight. I’m in New York City. Believe it or not. I’m at the World Trade Center. Taking my son to see his father.”

(Yes, I got a shot of that)

We walk around the site and visit the Winter Garden at the World Financial Center and the Hudson River waterfront. Return to the World Trade Center, and take the PATH train to Hoboken, NJ. Then take the NY waterway ferry back across the river to 39th Street. Board the NY Waterway bus to near Rockefeller Center. We visited the Big Tree, 5th Avenue, St. Patrick’s Cathedral, then Times Square, and walked down Broadway to Herald Square for a PATH train back to New Jersey, just to change trains and go back to the World Trade Center. Walk back down to the Staten Island Ferry back to Staten Island, to my car, and back to their hotel. A day of memories, having taken many, many photos.

Friday the 23rd, my mother and I picked up Justin and Katie at the Days Inn at about 9 am and took them to a typical Jersey Diner, the Galaxy Diner in Rahway for breakfast. Then we brought Katie to the airport, about a 15-minute drive away via the Turnpike outside of rush hour.  She left without any issues, the weather was good here and there. It wasn’t crowded, considering it was “get-a-way-Friday” before Christmas. Can’t imagine what it would be like that evening.

The plan for the rest of the day was to drop Mom off at the Woodbridge Center Mall where the Salvation Army was doing the last day of the Christmas Red Kettle campaign.  While she was doing that, Justin and I rode around giving kettle volunteers lunch breaks at other locations in the area, including the two Turnpike and one Parkway rest areas. 

Later we went back to the mall and helped to gather all the equipment up and pack it into the vans to return it to the church.  We unpacked it all, did the necessary repairs, and packed it all away until next Christmas. We got back to the house before 10 pm. Justin was going to sleep in my bedroom during his stay and I slept on the couch.

Saturday, December 24th, was a lot more relaxing. Didn’t even leave the house until that afternoon, when we went to Boston Market for lunch. Justin had never been there, had only seen it on TV Commercials. He enjoyed it a great deal but later required more Tums.

Later we went to pick up Nicole at her Nanna’s house and brought her to our place for the night. We ordered pizza and watched an animated movie. I forget which one.  Nicole slept on the couch that night and I slept on a cot in the kitchen/dining room.

As I was trying to fall asleep, I was a bit upset that even though I was paying for almost everything, I was on a cot sleeping in the kitchen. But then it occurred to me, this is the first night that both of my children were sleeping under the same roof!  I was totally blown away at this notion and the fact that it hadn’t even occurred to me before! I literally got on my knees and cried like a baby, thanking God for something that I was amiss in praying for. He gave me things I didn’t even know I wanted.

Sunday, Christmas Day, we all get up early and are at the church about 7:30 am. That is early because we are serving breakfast to the hungry and homeless before the Holiday service.  At the time, I was running the “Sunday School” program. And we were working on a series on the Titles of Jesus in Isaiah 9:6. Today was the big finale.  At the time, my mom had been the legal guardian of a man, Miguel, who was severely handicapped. We often brought him to church with us. We brought him to church Christmas too.

After opening, I called up Justin and Nicole and told all those assembled about 40/50 people, about this being our first time together for church, a weekend, a holiday, ever. My thoughts were with 5 kids, in particular, 3 older teens and 2 about 10 years old. Three I knew had parents in prison and the other 2 had no memories of their father being in their life at all.  My message was simple: If you hold on to the promises of the Lord and wait and wait and wait and even get to the point of not even praying or wishing for it any longer. He can still make it happen. Later I spoke to each one individually about it.

After church, we went to a special lunch at the Holiday Inn in Carteret (it was one of the few places open that could take a party of ten). We ate with the pastors and their families.  After that, we brought Miguel home and brought Nicole to her mother’s house.  Back at home, Justin and I went online and began sharing the news and photos of all the momentous events of the last few days with folks far and wide. He didn’t have broadband at home, only dial-up. So he took full advantage. He also posted literally hundreds of the photos we took.

Monday, December 26th, picked up Nicole again and our first stop was to see the Atlantic Ocean at Sandy Hook, NJ.  Justin hadn’t seen it since he was a baby.  We stopped first at Mt. Mitchel in Highlands, NJ (remember that from Part 1?) and the twin lighthouses and then to the actual beach (it was on Justin’s wish list). On the way back, we stopped at the Quick stop in Leonardo (He had seen Clerks also).  From there we went to the Target in Linden to get the portraits done. This was the goal of the whole quest from the beginning.  Nobody was in the photo studio except us and the two clerks.  They were so happy to have nobody in line since before Thanksgiving. We were given the Royal treatment. Ended up getting three shots done; one of Justin and Nicole; one with them and I; then one of us all with Grandma. The prints would be returned in about 3 weeks. I would get a call and email.

After this we went to Roosevelt Park in Edison and ice skating on the outdoor rink, on Nicole’s wish list. It was something we did on occasion and I asked her what she wanted to do when Justin came one day after being at the rink with her.

Tuesday, December 27th was another down day. I took Justin in the evening to visit my friends in Paterson, NJ where I was also involved in ministry. Then we did a driving tour of New York, things in the outer boroughs that we didn’t see on Thursday. Yankee Stadium, Shea Stadium, the World’s Fair, Coney Island, to name a few stops. We got home later, after midnight.

Wednesday, December 28th was just a day of packing up and saying goodbyes. Justin’s flight was about noon. I had already made arrangements to go through the security screen without a ticket because I was escorting a 15-year-old. If he was 16, they wouldn’t have let me.

Justin and I said goodbye at the gate. There was no magical moment or words. We didn’t even know when we would see each other again.  After he was on the plane, I called his mom, just as I promised.  We talked for about 20 minutes while I was watching, waiting for the plane to pull away from the gate, which it finally did. Katie thanked me for the trip and shared the many compliments she already had received on the scarf I gave her the week before.  I pledged to send her a list of stores in her area that had our merchandise in them. She promised to text me when she was with Justin at the St. Louis airport and have him call me when he finally got home after a stop at her in-laws. All which she did.

Thursday, December 29th I had to go to a funeral in Paterson. Three of the kids (two teens and a four-year-old) involved in the ministry got a phone call on Christmas Eve, “when are you going to pick up your father’s body from the hospital?” Their dad had been missing for about six weeks (which was not so uncommon for him). When they didn’t hear from him through Thanksgiving and Christmas they began to worry. Come to find out he was dead and they were never notified until the very rude Christmas Eve phone call.

Friday, December 30th I had to go to work. It was a quiet day, the boss closed up early. Then I went to the church to help deliver a cot to someone’s home. 

Saturday, December 31st was another New Year’s Eve Watch Night service. Got allotted another ten minutes to speak. Told of the whole tale from the mystery email in February to crying in the kitchen on Christmas Eve.

Mid-January had gotten an email that the Target photo prints were finally in. Over the next week, a friend helped me pick out some frames and helped me put together Valentine’s Day packages for Justin, Nicole, and my mother. I also got many, many photos printed and sent them to many friends who I knew were praying for all of this.  Also to make up for not sending out Christmas Cards that year. Maybe 100 in total.

By mid-March, my mother was hospitalized for a combination of ailments; including previously undiagnosed diabetic shock and congestive heart failure. Her mind was never the same again. Although her body lived almost ten more years, her mind was gone. She hated everyone and didn’t mind telling everybody all about it. She only saw Nicole a handful of times after that and didn’t see Justin ever again.

One of the last things she ever told me was that Christmas 2005 was the best she ever had. Two photos I made sure she always had on her nightstand, no matter where she was: hospital, nursing home, etc. her 1959 wedding photo and one that was taken at church on Christmas Day 2005 of the five of us sitting together on a pew. Miguel, Nicole, Justin, her and I.

The End.

Charles Sullivan
https://linktr.ee/CCfromNJ