December 11. 2009

My favorite uncle/my dad’s older brother died last Friday. They were gone within four months of each other. Yesterday I drove to NJ for a beautiful little service and to let my cousins know I understood how they felt. I didn’t know my uncle when I was a child. They lived hours away from us and money was tight on both sides. I think I saw the family maybe twice. But my dad kept in touch with his brother, of course.

Then, maybe 10 years ago (?), I started what would become an annual or bi-annual event. In March Joe and I would pack up a corned beef and cabbage dinner and drive to NJ, where we’d meet my dad and his wife, my uncle and a friend of his, and my twin cousins and their growing families to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day.

In those visits, I got to know my uncle and my cousins, but I also got to know my dad better. He had always very much admired his older brother, wanted to emulate him but just couldn’t. As my sister said yesterday, my uncle was the grasshopper, my dad was the ant. Apart they could be so different, together they were very much alike. So now I picture them forever, sitting around a kitchen table, drinking (good) beer and swapping stories. Slainte!

 

December 27, 2007

I had what was probably one of my best Christmases this year. It used to be a really hard time for me because I don’t (can’t) have children and everyone always said that’s who Christmas was for. Over the years I often ended up in places full of three or four generations of family, baby gifts, kids running everywhere, parents either bragging or complaining, all the noise and commotion of a holiday. People who think that being around children is good enough are wrong. I never felt like I was part of it.

So finally instead of being miserable, I convinced my husband (it didn’t take much!) to try a grown-up Christmas in our own home. Over the years we’ve decorated our tree (at 12 feet tall it takes a while), made Christmas Eve dinner together (pierogies!),  and shared bubbly and gifts and a very nice time in front of a fire. It may not be for everyone, but it sure works for us.

This year we got up on Christmas morning, had blueberry pancakes, opened gifts, and called relatives. We spent the afternoon on the trail on top of the mountain–it was sunny and cold and beautiful. At points on the trail we could see the two mountains north of us. Stopped at the neighbors’ on the way back who treated us to sandwiches and warming drinks while our dog swam in their pond. When we got home Joe built a fire in the fireplace and we just mellowed the rest of the day away. The only thing that would have made it better would be snow, but that’ll come eventually. . . .

 

 

November 23, 2007, 11 a.m.

Okay, it’s official. I’m sick of Christmas music. Now. The day after Thanksgiving. A commercial featuring Handel’s Messiah I’ve been hearing for two weeks already just pushed me over the edge. And I’m not even a Scrooge. But, oy, what they’ve done to destroy what used to be a really special time of year! I saw Christmas decorations in stores in September. I saw Christmas displays on houses last week-–lit! I’d like to think the Turkeys Union is behind the whole thing, trying to deflect people’s attention away from the eating. This is not news but anything overexposed loses its specialness. I’ll just have to try to plug my ears and close my eyes to it all until I’m ready to think Christmas . . . in a few weeks, say, December?

 

Thanksgiving

So what am I doing on the computer? I’d planned on taking my mother a nice Thanksgiving dinner, including stuffing and pie from her recipes. But Sister A made other plans at the last minute and my mother couldn’t tell her no. We could have gone to Joe’s sister’s (they would welcome us even if we never told them we could come after all) but I suspect Joe is rather happy to have our first Thanksgiving at Martini Rock à deux.

I’ll toss our turkey in the oven in about an hour or so. We already have some apple pie, and good cookies in the freezer, so I won’t make anything else. Yams (baked) although I’m tempted to try some roasted-garlic mashed reds, too, just for experiment sake. Green beans from Wegman’s because Joe says they’re best of the grocery-store green beans. C’est tout. I could make bread but that’s too much for just two of us. I wouldn’t mind making something out of the Alice’s Restaurant Cookbook just for fun, but the potato pages are missing (flea market find I couldn’t resist!).

Things to be thankful for—Thanksgiving at Martini Rock, of course. My husband, my dog, my house, the woods, the bears. I may not yet have a regularly scheduled paycheck job but at least I have plenty of freelance work. My mother’s improved health, my sister’s friendship, the rockstar, the fact that at least one person bought my book on Amazon this week, the niece and grand-niece, my great new neighbors, the writing group, my friends far and near (this is about where my friend Marion would caution me against getting “corny” and she’d be right). So I’ll stop now.

Plenty of people today would tell me that I should be thankful that I have many places I could go but that I don’t have to. More than one person I know is running from one place to another, today into tomorrow, because family is pulling them. I don’t have that issue. Instead, I’m going to think about making lunch and sitting down in front of the Andy Hardy marathon for a bit (thank you, TCM!).