Thanksgiving Perspective

Another Thanksgiving is complete.  Fair weather relatives have come and gone.  Refrigerator’s are full with leftover turkey and stuffing and people are beginning to stir from their food comas to set up Christmas decorations and find as many bargains as possible at the local retail stores.

If you read my previous post you know that the days leading up to Thanksgiving were hectic, to say the least, both personally and professionally.  However, I recall during that Monday through Wednesday, as I struggled to meet deadlines and fight to the death over canned pumpkin, feeling a sense of dread at the prospect of attending yet another festive Thanksgiving at the homes of my wife’s relatives.  My relationship with her parents and immediately family is superb, but beyond that, as with many families, awkward interactions, stress, and surface tension are the only result when her extended family arrives.  I tend to shy away from socially active people and situations for the most part, but I never feel such an aversion to such circumstances as when Thanksgiving and Christmas arrives.  This was not always the case.  I considered the reasons for such a fairly adolescent, juvenile  reaction to these festive occasions and landed on one that I believe most people can relate to.  

I’m an adult.  I lost sight of the fact that I experienced the majority of past Thanksgivings and Christmases as a child.  I saw much of it through rose colored glasses, largely unaware of family tension and secret dislikes certain relatives had for other relatives.  But does becoming an adult mean we forget childish things?  Yes….sort of.  I don’t want to forget, nor do I think I should have to forget, the innocent, welcoming perspective of the kid in a candy store or the happily naive 10 year old running down the steps to open presents.  I want the excitement and exhilaration of family and friends.  Certainly some of those feelings will subside because it is not practical or even possible to recall those emotions when the stress, both familial and occupational, bear down on you.  The concept remains though, however fleeting, and I strive to remove it from the conceptual realm of wants and wishes and make it a reality.  But how?  By doing what everyone tells you do to this time of year.  Remember and be thankful.  In that vain, the following is what I remember of past Thanksgivings:

(1)  My parents.

 

I remember my mother and father every day.  Not only because their pictures clutter my desk, but because their memory clutters my brain.  It will take many more years to organize the clutter, but I’m thankful that the clutter is there at all.  I’m disappointed that I did not know them better, but I’m thankful for what I do know and what I can interpret from various pictures and memories.  So who were they you ask?  Well….

             (a)  My Dad.  

My dad was like most dads that you hear about.  He was caring and loving and kind.  He controlled his temper until he needed to and the quieter he became, the more trouble you were in.  He was special in that even seeing him Wednesdays and every other weekend, he was still always around.  We talked in the evenings and mowed the lawn on the weekends.  He labored at an occupation he didn’t particularly care for and engaged in various activities of which I only later discovered he didn’t really like (i.e. baseball) for the sake of his family.  He taught me how to tie a tie and how to swim.  He taught me to appreciate the outdoors with walks in the woods, hiking in New Mexico, skiing in Colorado, and scuba diving in Belize.  He taught me discipline by having me mow the lawn and punishing me for poor scholastic efforts.  He taught me love through his actions and the importance of family every year by dragging us to Papa and Jane’s house every year.

 

He was young once, which is what I often wonder about.  What was he like?  What did he do?  Who was he?  I’ll never really know now, but from pictures and vague recollections, I think he was pretty fucking awesome. I submit the above and following photographic account as proof:

(that’s my dad on the left).  Now, you cannot expect too much of one person.  It is difficult and probably too much to ask for one man to be free spirited, athletic, disciplined, and the poster boy for GQ all at once.  And yet…..

But how is he with kids and family?  Sure it’s easy to be young and devoted to yourself and achieving your own goals, but try raising a family Mr. Fancy Pants.  Oh wait…what’s this??

Well, that’s all well and good, but the true test and one everyone fails is rallying the troops.  When a task appears impossible, how do you get them to believe?  How do you make them see that the impossible is possible?  For example, if someone gave you an inflatable killer whale and said “You cannot fit three people on this toy…maximum is two” how do you get your followers to believe?  I don’t know how he did it, but not only did he do it, but he was wise enough to get photographic evidence for posterity.

              (b)  My Mom.  My mother was equally as amazing, but in a very different way.  She loved me and protected me every day.  There was a different kind of pressure putting up with me almost every night of the week and weekend.  She didn’t teach me any less than my father did and she loved me more than anyone ever has.  This was due in large part because she had me most of the time.  She took me to school, baseball practice, piano lessons, and detention whenever necessary.  She quit her job to be home when I got home after school.  She cooked dinner, breakfast, washed my clothes, worried about me when I stayed out late and cheered for me with every exam I took.  She helped with my homework and constructively criticized when necessary.  We did not get to go on vacations with her except to see our family in other cities.

 

She rubbed my head when I was stressed and was there every time I failed.  I think that’s what made it hard the first few years after death when I graduated from Trinity and eventually obtained my law degree.  The woman who supported me through every failure wasn’t there to see the result of her efforts.  Now,I later came to realize that  she was there and is happier where she is, but man it would be nice to see her maybe ONE more time?  But perhaps you’re once again doubting the spectacular creature that was my mother.  Not a problem.  I have further photographic evidence for your review.

Ok, so the smoking I could do without, but everyone has their vices. Besides, how can you doubt grover?

That may not be my mom’s arm, but it is for the sake of this post and the person I remember most putting that puppet on.  

And for those parents wondering how to keep your child in one place when they’re getting too rambunctious, think outside the box.  If you do, you’ll find that a laundry basket is not just a laundry basket.

In addition, she’s available on any occasion for parties and get-togethers for a very reasonable price.

More importantly, she was there for every occasion.

My parents taught me how to appreciate the holidays and I kind of forgot how.  So, sorry mom and dad and that’s why I’m thankful this year.

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