A good friend of mine and I were discussing Thanksgiving last night. One of the statements he made resonated with me. Basically, he was iffy about the whole holiday, as it was just another excuse for people to gorge themselves under the pretense of “family togetherness.”
And it made me think of my family. My whole extended Robinson clan of a family. Every Thanksgiving and/or Christmas, my mom’s side gets together and – celebrates. That means two grandparents, one great-aunt (who acts like a 50 year old), eight parents, eleven grandchildren, and an assortment of friends and significant others all gather into one three bedroom house to “enjoy” each other’s company.
Now, looking at it and the amount of food consumed by this clan of twenty-two plus people, it may be easy to group us into the category of superficial Thanksgiving-ers. But I don’t think that would be true. Now, I’ve never really celebrated Thanksgiving with any other family (well, I did celebrate it with my aunt-in-laws family once), so I don’t know how other celebrate holidays, but this is a little how ours goes.
One by one, the families trickle in. My memaw is already in the kitchen, her foster bedroom during these holiday days, and the house is filled with the aroma of freshly-baked, homemade rolls. A batch of fresh dough is sitting on the counter, because she knows that my aunts and uncles can’t pass by without taking a pinch.
The women congregate in the front living room and in the kitchen while the guys crowd around the tv in the den. Football is on. The Cowboys. And, even though most of the family has drifted away from their Cowboy-obsessed phase, it’s still football. Their boos, catcalls, and cheers can be heard down the block. Well, at least my brother’s voice can.
The grandkids have split themselves up, roaming about the house, sneaking into the kitchen for pre-feast bites, talking with aunts, cheering or booing the cowboys, facebook stalking their friends, inviting old friends over. We do it all.
“Dinner. Everyone gather round. Cassandra, go round up the guys.” My Memaw’s proclamation is like a magnet, attracting the family to her (or at least to the food in her hands). We gather round, hold hands, and then . . . “Ohhhhhhhhh say can you see, by the dawn’s early light…” Yes, we break into song. Yes, my family is very patriotic, but the tradition of singing the “Star Spangled Banner” before our great meal actually has nothing to do with that. It started several years ago as a joke. I’m sure it happened because the boys were watching football, and the national anthem got stuck in their head. Still, whatever the reason, before we pray, we sing the anthem (usually loud and out-of tune).
We then bless the meal, fill our plates, and recreate Darwin’s theory of Survival of the Fittest: The quickest get a seat, the losers get the floor (or a really uncomfortable, small, black chair). We go around and state our thanks as is “traditional” Thanksgiving behavior, but after that we talk. And we talk. And we talk some more.
Then, after the food has begun trickling its way down our digestive courses, the music begins. With four pianists and a whole horde of singers in the family (and a grandmother who doesn’t take no for an answer), the singing can last for a while. A long while. Days even.
Now, my family isn’t perfect by any means, and we do have our arguments, our petty differences, our annoyances, but we’ve been given a great gift. We have two parents/grandparents that have made it their life mission to make sure that they keep the family together. And because we all love them, and we deep down we really love each other, we get together. We catch up. We celebrate the love that has filled this house for over twenty years of family togetherness.
****************************************************************************
Now this year, Thanksgiving was a lot smaller. My aunt and her family couldn't make it, neither could my fav. uncle and his family, nor my great-aunt, nor my younger brother. This took our total down to a tragic eleven. It was still nice an homey. But it wasn't the same. However, as I learn every year, it's a good thing family holidays only happen once or twice a year.
Thanksgiving itself was wonderful. The food and company provide no room for complaints. I then went off to work and had an easy day of it there too. But between all of the tensions getting ready for the holiday, and the constant buzz of people flying here and there and everywhere, and the stress radiating off of my grandmother (although she will staunchly deny it), and the lack of sleep I had been getting, I broke down. I love my family and I love people, but I am truly my mother's daughter, and I can only handle so much of either set.
I am not one of those people that can operate without sleep. I know my limits. For the past three or four nights, I had not slept well at all. This also meant that I stayed in bed longer trying to sleep - wishful thinking, I know. Well, at my grandmother's house, where I have been living, sleeping till 8:00 is sleeping in. Sleeping till 9:00 is sinful (at least for the women). So, on top of not sleeping, I get the guilt trip of how she has so much to do and no help. The thing about my memaw is that she never actually knows that she's guilt tripping people, but she is the queen guilter. I seriously have never met one like her. And my personality naturally rebels against anyone guilting me (intentionally or unintentionally) or trying to manipulate me.
So, between too many people and the lack of sleep, and the getting sick part, and the guilt trip, and then the announcement that I was to be kicked out of my room and bed to sleep on the couch (which I usually wouldn't mind as I do it every time someone visits), I lost it. Completely balled my eyes out lost it. And I knew I was being ridiculous, but all I could think was that I wanted a nice, cozy bed, a couple of burning candles, and clean and open environment empty of people. So, after work last night, I took off. I drove into Roswell and checked myself into a hotel. And it was the best thing I could have done for myself. The bed was soooo comfortable and white and snuggly. The air was adjusted to ME. The room was clean and open and inviting. I slept. And I didn't wake up till around 7:00, then I slept some more. Then, this morning I went to the arts and crafts fair and found some marvelous prizes.
And at this point, I don't care if my family thinks I'm crazy or lazy or unsocial. I did what I needed. Because, although they love me, they couldn't understand that. But I did. I also know that if I had stayed at home, where everyone was laughing, playing games, and singing, I would have bitten somebody's head off. And felt horrible. This way, they got to go on and I got to go on.
Now, this morning afternoon, I have my cousin's wedding shower to attend. So, I am not being anti-social. I am not being lazy. And I am celebrating with family. I'm just doing it at my own pace.
0 comments:
Post a Comment