The Year Without a Santa Claus

Does anyone want to read a year-end review of 2024?

Michael Jensen

and

Brent Hartinger

Dec 14, 2024

137

129

The Year Without a Santa Claus had nothing on 2024.

This year, we had war in Gaza and Ukraine (and elsewhere); Hurricane Helene in the southeastern U.S.; flash floods in Spain, Pakistan, and Afghanistan; and record-high temperatures that spawned heatwaves and fires all over the world.

And oh, yeah, didn’t America have a pivotal election or something?

As for the two of us, we both had a series of health challenges — a chronic one for Brent and other issues striking us out of the blue all year long.

In The Year Without a Santa Claus, the 1974 children’s Christmas special, Santa arrives eventually. The title turns out to be a misnomer — it’s not a year without a Santa Claus — and Santa flies around on his sleigh making everything right in the end.

This year, we’re not sure Santa will show up to save the day.

But 2024 did show us something pretty important.

The two of us began our year in Valencia, Spain. We’d been nomads for seven years and were thinking of setting up a “home base” somewhere. We thought Spain seemed like a possibility, and we wanted to see if the Spanish lifestyle suited us.

Unfortunately, a nasty strain of whooping cough was sweeping across Europe, and we both came down with bad cases of it (despite being vaccinated). Michael had it especially bad, coughing for weeks on end — so hard he thought he would hurt himself.

But eventually, we recovered.

Valencia didn’t seem like a place to live long-term, but we discovered we’d be in town for the Las Fallas Festival.

During this five-day festival, Valencia’s different neighborhoods all roll out massive papier-mâché sculptures. Then, on the evening of the festival’s last day — known as La Noche de la Cremà — they set them on fire.

Is the point to remind people that life is fragile and temporary? Or does Valencia just like to burn shit?

Either way, it was utterly surreal and absolutely fantastic.

From Spain, the two of us headed off to Istanbul for “medical tourism” — Brent was scheduled to have surgery on a chronic problem with his foot.

The surgery went well, but it was more intense than either of us expected, and the recovery was long and painful.

But hey, in sickness and in health! Michael ended up being really glad he could help, making sure Brent’s foot was iced and elevated, monitoring pain pills, and accompanying him on his many follow-up doctors’ visits. It was a reminder that we’re a team.

The neighborhood we had chosen to be near the hospital, Balat, turned out to be religiously conservative — and psychologically challenging.

There was also some fairly shocking poverty. Istanbul is an incredible city but also a place of great contrast.

*People are like buildings: they need love and care.*

From Istanbul, we headed south to Fethiye, Turkey, nestled along the stunning Turquoise Coast.

Brent’s foot continued to heal, and we explored the area around the city, including the remnants and ruins of the ancient Lycian Civilization. Their fall was so dramatic that very little is now known of the people who once lived here. They’re almost entirely forgotten — except for dramatic rock-cut tombs they carved into the hillsides.

Southern Turkey reminded us that everything is temporary — even entire civilizations.

Or are the Lycians forgotten? The fact is, the Lycian people and their civilization didn’t disappear exactly. They were just absorbed into subsequent civilizations.

In a way, everything is temporary. But in another way, life goes on. Perhaps the Lycians live on in the incredible hospitality of the Turks — and in their fabulous food.

The massive “Turkish breakfast” is a relatively new phenomenon, but the roots of many Turkish dishes go back thousands of years.

*The incredible Turkish breakfast is like eating history*.

From Turkey, we traveled to Oslo, Norway, to visit an old nomad friend.

The city was beautiful, and Norwegian culture seemed almost perfect — too perfect, Brent noted. Like we were in the first act of a horror movie.

Sure enough, disaster soon struck: Michael slipped and hit his head at a local pool. There was a lot of blood, and he wound up in the emergency room.

Another hospital, another reminder of the fragility of life. But this time, Brent felt privileged to take care of Michael.

Ironically, this eternal wisdom was all spelled out in an incredible sculpture park near our apartment.

*Is one man helping another up? Or slowly letting him go?*

After Oslo, we took a two-month cruise around the North Atlantic and visited some of the world’s more remote places, including Iceland and Greenland.

In Iceland, we encountered dramatic settings — places that looked strange and alien, and completely inhospitable…

…but we also saw scenes of great beauty. Life always seemed to find a way, even under seemingly hostile conditions.

Later on the cruise, back in Norway, dark clouds rolled in again, and we had another unexpected medical emergency.

This time, Brent had an incredibly painful kidney stone that landed him in the hospital for three days.

And Michael took care of Brent, and once again, we were both reminded how lucky we are to have each other.

But when it comes to kidney stones, the ancient wisdom has it right: this too shall pass.

As a reward, we were privileged to see the Northern Lights.

From there, we traveled to Bristol in southwest England, famous for its stunning Georgian and Victorian architecture.

We also happened to be there for autumn, Michael’s favorite time of year.

Is autumn a time of death and decay? Or is it merely setting the stage for an inevitable rebirth and renewal?

Now we’re back in the U.S., visiting friends and family for the holidays.

For us, 2024 really was The Year Without a Santa Claus. And yeah, we’re still not counting on Santa showing up any time soon.

But maybe that doesn’t matter. If 2024 taught us anything, it’s that broken things heal — sore feet and head wounds. Even kidney stones pass.

Burned things are rebuilt the following year. People live on even after civilizations fall. Flowers grow, dark clouds pass, and spring follows winter.

Life goes on.

And if we don’t have Santa to swoop in and save the day?

Well, at least we still have each other — and that ain’t nothing.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays.

Michael and Brent

Brent and Michael Are Going Places

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