Bad memories from circle of holidays (12/01/2008)

Sometimes I feel as if I am turning into my mother.

I spent the Thanksgiving holiday sniffling and coughing. There wasn't a turkey to be seen, unless you count the cat. She can be as goofy as a turkey.

When I was a little girl holidays were far from the Norman Rockwell ideal. Sometimes relatives would come and Grandma would make beef and noodles. The beef was from an animal I had named when it was still alive and cute. The noodles were made by hand and were often doughy.

Those were the good holidays. There were lots of cousins to play with and the adults were in a good mood.

The bad holidays involved lots of fighting and I don't mean yelling. Those are best forgotten.

Then when I had been married for a year I got the hair-brained idea to host Thanksgiving myself. Both families were in attendance. I was pregnant and we had a puppy that loved to chew on telephone cords.

The meal itself was passable, except for the pie. Somehow the crust was in the middle of the pie instead of on the bottom.

Then came years of splitting major holidays. We would go to one set of parents in the morning then to the other set later in the day.

Sometimes we would celebrate a holiday on the Sunday before so we would be free to go to the other parents' house on the official day.

We spent several Easters at Mammoth Cave in order not to play favorites with one or the other set of relatives. If you have never been there spring is a beautiful time to go.

We also spent several Thanksgivings at our daughter's in Texas. It was odd to go Christmas shopping on Black Friday without a coat. We had a blast.

The most memorable Thanksgiving was the year we moved to a new house on the last Thursday in November. We collapsed at the end of the day and ate a meal of bologna sandwiches from the local convenience store.

Now we are at the point where people are dying. There is no longer a choice as to which set of in-laws to visit. We miss the tug-of-war for our hearts.

It seems that we have reached the stage in life where holidays don't mean so much any more. My brothers spend the day at in-laws or girlfriend's. They invite our mother to go along but she doesn't want to. Because of her hearing loss she finds it difficult to follow a conversation and feels like she will be ignored. So she prefers to spend her time watching television. They promise to bring her leftovers and she is satisfied.

My daughter called me on Thanksgiving and in the background was the sound of toddlers, . . . lots of toddlers. Maybe five isn't considered to be lots, but it sure sounded that way. As she was talking she excused herself to yell, "There's enough dirt for everyone!"

Then she managed to catch a small lizard. She let the kids pass it around and show it off before turning it loose. She explained that it was scared. One of the little girls said that was why its sides were going in and out so fast.

Part of me felt as if I was on the outside looking in. I chose to spend the holiday with my husband and a whole series of reruns interspersed with football. I had a bad cold and didn't want to share it with my family.

Still ... I wonder how many more years it will be before I will be the one waiting at home; waiting for someone to bring me leftovers; waiting out of choice ... turning into my mother ... the only one left in my generation.[[In-content Ad]]