Home for the Holidays

Ah, such a dramatic title for what amounts to an 8 mile drive for me. But the holidays are more than a journey down the highway- they are a personal journey -- always. Aren't they? It's part of my ritual to watch the fabulous film Home for the Holidays, starring Holly Hunter and Lilly Downey Jr. -ahem, sorry - Robert Downey Jr. It taps in, with an all-star cast boasting Geraldine Chaplain and Anne Bancroft, no less, into the compelling mix of adoration and suffocation that fill the air at family gatherings.

Every year, the holidays are a chance to gauge how things have changed in the last 365 days. I suppose we do it, even unconsciously, this measuring of sorts. My brother has sprouted facial hair and height in mass quantities, and ducks out at intervals to go see his girlfriend. I made a lot of the Christmas presents I gave my family, helped cook dinner, and baked throughout the weekend (gag gag, hello domesticity). And so on. I try to remember what the holidays were like when we were 2, 9, and 11, but I can barely recall thanks to this crap memory of mine, mostly used up on song lyrics. I used to celebrate Christmas unfailingly. String the popcorn, make the paper chain, whatever. Now I sit back and enjoy our use of a holiday celebrating a savior our religion (not that we really have one) doesn't recognize as God's son. But boy oh boy do we loot.

I was showered with gifts I probably don't deserve. I mean, was I good kid? Let's see. I quit my job. That was fun, if slightly naughty. And this brings me to another question- we have to have been good all year, right Santa? But do we need to be good from January 1 to Christmas? Is this like taxes, on the calendar year? Because if so, as I see it, we need to raise holy hell from today (Dec 26) til Dec 31st. Maybe these are freebie days? And maybe we should work quickly. I don't know what I'd do even if I was give the free reign to misbehave. Maybe I'd send George Bush a rude email. Maybe I'd blow off some red lights. Maybe I'd get a tattoo. I regret that the rebellion gene seems to have missed me.

Anyways, back to the holidays. I suppose I expect everything to be pristine and perfect. I expect the reflection of Christmas ornaments to twinkle in our eyes as we share a meal. But this isn't how holidays go. That's not what they're for, I'm realizing. I suppose I'd always expected our family to live up to this Hallmark Holiday Special standard of "perfection". And yet that doesn't apply. Question as to whether it even exists.

I suppose I don't have the right to quote Tolstoy, given that I"m only halfway thru Anna Karenina (and that was 2 years ago, when I took a break and never picked it up again. oops). "Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way." I'm not sure I agree in breaking it down into happy or unhappy, but I suppose that each family, during the holidays, pulls together in its own way. Holidays are a trial. And if you make it through, well then, you're a family. Can you live through a few days under the same roof, eating leftovers and putting presents together and watching horribly crap television together? Can you share one computer with internet access? Can you coordinate mealtimes for 5 stomachs on different time zones, much less taste buds?

Reality television, anyone?