The Holidaze
Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. It makes my mother happy. When my mother is happy, everyone in her sphere of influence is happy. That's good enough for me. My mother likes having the entire extended family over for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter. This is something I'm not a fan of. It's done, however, because it's what my mother likes.
This is a good enough reason. I'm not so hot on the huge family togetherness. Now that I don't live there anymore, its not quite as bad, but as a child, I couldn't stand the thought of not having an escape from the madness. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy the adults in my family (more on the kids in a bit). Although, I enjoy them all for different reasons, and having them all together really dilutes the meaningfulness of talking to them at all. Unfortunately, two of the three people in my family I could talk to for hours on end without getting tired are now dead. There's been also been a seperation, and while everyone tries to avoid mentioning it or ignoring it, the fact that we're one person down who's company I enjoyed and we all know why but no one will talk about it is annoying as well.
I have nothing against my cousins or my sister, I just have nothing in common with them besides blood. There's no similar interests whatsoever. I don't even like to watch football, so there's another strike against me. You have a better chance of getting me to sing Abba hits than playing with my younger cousins.
I could go on a whole diatribe about why I don't like kids, but there's really no point, and truthfully, I'm not even sure why. My friends are starting to have them, and I really could care less about "Johnny's first words" or anything. I have nothing in common with children and I didn't even when I was one. As a child on Thanksgiving, you would see me talking about the politics of Rhode Island or the history of Iceland with my dad and our neighbor David, never would I be outside with my cousins and sister or watching football with my uncles.
This year, while my friends will be playing manhunt with cousins and nieces and nephews, I will be sitting in a room, probably with my dad, away from everyone else, talking about something noone but he and I care about, while trying to avoid any contact whatsoever with anyone under the age of 50. The house will have crackling fires in the fireplaces. The smells of hot cider and turkey will fill the house. The 18th century kitchen will be 89 degrees and crammed full with the rest of the family, telling the same stories they have told over and over for the last 25 years. My mother will be glowing, in her element. She won't be brought down by my demands of no birthday cake or acknowledgement of my birthday. I'll be in the huge, cold, living room across the house with my dad. Sitting. Talking. It will be blissful. It will be quiet. I'll be able to relax.
As for the two people besides my dad who I enjoyed talking to, it's impossible to be in that house and not feel my grandmother everywhere. It's still her house, and always will be in my mind. Regardless of how anything is changed there, I always find myself looking for something "where it used to be". As far as not having my grandfather there, it will be difficult. First time in the 28 Thanksgivings that he won't be there, silently presiding over everyone, with nary a word. The little kids now did what we did 20 years ago, if you were horsing around, it stopped when Papa entered the room. He commanded the ultimate in respect, without saying a word. We knew how we were expected to behave. And we did, when he was there. I'll miss our discussions about anything. I'll miss the way he sat and soaked everyone in, content to be amongst his family. Goddamn. I'll miss that man. It will never be the same without him there. But I'll go anyway. It's my mother's favorite thing in the world. How could I deprive her of that?
This is a good enough reason. I'm not so hot on the huge family togetherness. Now that I don't live there anymore, its not quite as bad, but as a child, I couldn't stand the thought of not having an escape from the madness. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy the adults in my family (more on the kids in a bit). Although, I enjoy them all for different reasons, and having them all together really dilutes the meaningfulness of talking to them at all. Unfortunately, two of the three people in my family I could talk to for hours on end without getting tired are now dead. There's been also been a seperation, and while everyone tries to avoid mentioning it or ignoring it, the fact that we're one person down who's company I enjoyed and we all know why but no one will talk about it is annoying as well.
I have nothing against my cousins or my sister, I just have nothing in common with them besides blood. There's no similar interests whatsoever. I don't even like to watch football, so there's another strike against me. You have a better chance of getting me to sing Abba hits than playing with my younger cousins.
I could go on a whole diatribe about why I don't like kids, but there's really no point, and truthfully, I'm not even sure why. My friends are starting to have them, and I really could care less about "Johnny's first words" or anything. I have nothing in common with children and I didn't even when I was one. As a child on Thanksgiving, you would see me talking about the politics of Rhode Island or the history of Iceland with my dad and our neighbor David, never would I be outside with my cousins and sister or watching football with my uncles.
This year, while my friends will be playing manhunt with cousins and nieces and nephews, I will be sitting in a room, probably with my dad, away from everyone else, talking about something noone but he and I care about, while trying to avoid any contact whatsoever with anyone under the age of 50. The house will have crackling fires in the fireplaces. The smells of hot cider and turkey will fill the house. The 18th century kitchen will be 89 degrees and crammed full with the rest of the family, telling the same stories they have told over and over for the last 25 years. My mother will be glowing, in her element. She won't be brought down by my demands of no birthday cake or acknowledgement of my birthday. I'll be in the huge, cold, living room across the house with my dad. Sitting. Talking. It will be blissful. It will be quiet. I'll be able to relax.
As for the two people besides my dad who I enjoyed talking to, it's impossible to be in that house and not feel my grandmother everywhere. It's still her house, and always will be in my mind. Regardless of how anything is changed there, I always find myself looking for something "where it used to be". As far as not having my grandfather there, it will be difficult. First time in the 28 Thanksgivings that he won't be there, silently presiding over everyone, with nary a word. The little kids now did what we did 20 years ago, if you were horsing around, it stopped when Papa entered the room. He commanded the ultimate in respect, without saying a word. We knew how we were expected to behave. And we did, when he was there. I'll miss our discussions about anything. I'll miss the way he sat and soaked everyone in, content to be amongst his family. Goddamn. I'll miss that man. It will never be the same without him there. But I'll go anyway. It's my mother's favorite thing in the world. How could I deprive her of that?
posted by Doug MacGunnigle at 11/20/2006 11:04:00 PM
1 Comments:
There is this homogeneity about holidays. You don't really relate but when you're all together as a family, there is just this feeling of warmth and bitter-sweet goodness. Like pumpkin pie, mmmm... pie. I hear what you're saying, though, because things are kinda odd in my family, especially when you're married and you're starting you're own tradition. Limbo, you know...
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