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.
