Bea had a feeling over the weekend, so she had to go into the backwoods to recover, which means I am supposed to update our ill-conceived love child that is this blog. The Management was even kind enough to give us the holiday weekend off.
Often times, when relating to other people over a holiday weekend, it often means relating holiday stories, usually from your childhood. Now, I truly think one of the real markers of adulthood is fully grasping how odd your upbringing was. Nothing throws this into light for me as when I talk to other people about holidays.
Let's be topical and start with Halloween. My dad did not let me go trick-or-treating. As near as I can tell he had two reasons for this. The first one being that he did not want his kids to think begging was acceptable. The other reason was that, in his belief, as a child I had no concept of specific days, and that I could easily confuse Halloween with any other time of the year, and go ask a stranger for candy, who was laying in wait for some poor temporally challenged child to ask just that, providing him the means to finally realize his evil plans. "We tell you not to accept candy from strangers. Why is it ok just because you're in a costume?" he often explains. My dad just has no whimsy.
Inevitably when I explain this, it goes to other holidays, namely Christmas. Then I am forced to explain that after many, many years of tense battles between my mom and my dad, I finally brokered the deal that we will get a Christmas tree every other year, unless it falls on my parents to host the larger family Christmas. I also secretly made a deal with my mother that half of my present to her over the holidays would be to pretend I actually enjoy the festivities, and be helpful and cheery. Also, apparently the only acceptable time for my father to buy himself anything is between December 10 and December 23. So we're all much happier (and are returning far fewer things) if we just let him buy his own Christmas present.
What about Thanksgiving?, you might ask The way I understand it is, generally my dad is cool with the whole concept of eating turkey, he'd rather not do it with the family, and would rather not have all that cooking involved.
What about the other holidays?
New Year's Eve? Bed by nine.
Easter? Not religious
Valentine's? Valen-what's?
People often wonder about my indifferent shrugs towards holidays. Don't I care about special occasions? What about my birthday? I share my birthday, with an older cousin, which while made it special between us, takes a little bit of special out of that special occasion.
Reactions to this attitude vary, from humor and occasionally envy. But the reaction I get the most from people is pity, as though I am missing out on something meaningful. I've taken my fair share of anthropology courses, I understand the significance of a shared ritual, the reinforcement of social ties. It seems to challenge the idea of community, the idea of family, if we were to let these holidays pass unmarked. My mother puts a great deal of value in these traditions, and feels a sense of loss at their absence. But, I see it differently.
My family shares a meal together roughly once a week. Not everyone is there every week, but we come and go as we can. Everyone is always welcome, and there is always enough food. When someone's life takes them away for a brief moment, it is done without stress or hesitation, because, even if they miss Sunday dinner to explore the world and themselves, they can always come back, and Sunday dinner is never more than 6 days away.
My dad doesn't need the holidays, special occasions, or old rituals to reinforce and renew his ties to his family. He does that every week. And yes, while growing up, I felt like I was missing something by not having a Christmas tree or a Halloween costume. Now, that I'm older, I wonder why all the fuss? I think it must be truly special to not need those special occasions.
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