Christmukkah Catholic Style
I am not Jewish, nor do I have any family member who is. In fact, the closest thing to Jewish in my family is the neighbors who live across the street. But they are really only half Jewish anyway—what fraction does that make me then?
This weekend was, without a doubt, the weirdest Christmas ever. Leading up to it we had expected that my mom, who is a flight attendant, might not make it home for Christmas. After all, there are flights everyday of the year, including holidays. However, my mom received her schedule around December 23 and, fortunately, she was to fly on Christmas eve and be home on Christmas. Home for Christmas that is, barring some strange occurrence like—oh I don’t know—snow in New Orleans, for instance.
Before December 25, 2004, it had last snowed (an amount that could be measured) in “The Big Easy” on December 22, 1989—I was eight years old. So it snowed in New Orleans on Christmas and my mom was locked into the New Orleans airport. The flight that was to bring her back to Texas was cancelled. Obviously, this put quite a damper on the holiday. In fact, it didn’t feel much like Christmas at all.
My dad and I immediately suspended dinner preparations (the usual: ham, potatoes, etc.), waiting until my mom eventually arrived. We tried, at first, to find a grocery store open to get some easy food to fix for our scaled down dinner. Apparently, the grocery stores closed at 4pm on Christmas; we arrived in their parking lots at 4:05pm. Plan B: Question—What kind of restaurants are open on Christmas? Answer—Any kind so long as it serves either bad Chinese or bad Mexican food. Neither bad Chinese nor bad Mexican food goes down well and their reincarnation hour later is rather unsettling. In fact, eating that food is like feeding Gizmo after midnight. Pizza, the old standby, is great, however—even if it is Christmas dinner. Although my mom was away, everyone got to open one present.
On December 26, my mom was supposed to arrive in Dallas in the afternoon, and she did. But there was one small problem: the airline put her on another flight immediately upon arrival. Now she’s out west somewhere, and everyone got to open one present. Yes, this Christmas has turned into a de facto, pseudo-Hanukkah celebration, elongating the Christian holy day into a three-day (if she makes it home tomorrow that is) festival. Its like a real Christmakkuh.
It still doesn’t feel like Christmas though. I can see now, at least partly, what people who have recently lost a loved one are going through. Not having someone who has been there every holiday is hard. Its a routine that is suddenly empty with the absence of even one.
Metaphysical Cachets on the Road to Modern Realism
When I was in high school, I was on the golf team. (Yes, the world’s biggest one player sport can be played as a team effort.) Most of the time, we would practice on public courses in the Dallas area. Occasionally, we got to practice on some of the nicest courses in Dallas. Well, my apartment back up to a tee box on one of the courses; 6 years ago I, when I looked over at the strange apartments from the tee, I was looking at my future home—and I didn’t know it. I had, literally, seen part of my future and didn’t know it. I suppose that shouldn’t really be all that surprising. Life seems to be filled with these sort of occurrences; we probably don’t recognize many (maybe most) of them.
Why is it that when we are young, life seems so ephemeral? There is sense of immediacy, an idea that thing must be done fast or at least soon or else…something. But what is that something? What will happen if we don’t move faster? I’m about to mention a name that will, more likely than not, never be mentioned again on this post: Brittany Spears. (Please, don’t discount the post rest of the post.) But as I sit here watching an old episode of “Friends,” during a commercial break there was an advertisement for the television premier of “Crossroads.” She says, at one point, “All we have is right now…and right now we have each other.” Cheesy, of course. But that line, at least the first part, I think, grabs young people. “All we have is right now…” Yet young people—those old enough to have a developed immune system—are the most likely population to live. Whether we’re 12 or 30, we statistically more likely to be healthy and not have just “now” but a good many tomorrows—years in fact.
This immediacy is also present in more reputable movies like “Garden State.” Although more existential, Natalie Portman’s character wants to be a person who does one original thing. She reasons, that no matter what else happens, she’ll be the only person to have ever done (insert some crazy act)—an original moment. Yet, given that she has so many years left to live (statistically, of course), what’s the rush to originality? Why does it have to be now, right then? I suppose you could say that its part of a culture that is used to everything quickly (fast food, microwaves, cars, etc.) But I think there is more to it.
Readers, what do you think?
