On Holidaze
By the time you read this, Father’s Day and my 35th wedding anniversary will have come and gone. But I am currently in the preparation stage for these holidays—the first time I will face them since my husband’s passing. My kids (Kids? All in their 30s.) will come over (Well, two of them. One lives in Australia and is currently in lockdown due to Covid.) We will cook, eat, play tabletop games and tell jokes about “Dad.” Remembrances that make us laugh—mostly.
The anniversary is the next day. I bought a fancy bottle of Prosecco. Same kind as the very last bottle Kirk and I shared in celebration. A girlfriend will spend the night, to eat and drink with me—and keep me afloat.
And already, I’m thinking about Christmas. How I’d just as soon take a trip to the beach and forget the holiday—to the best of my ability. Our Christmas was never a religious celebration, but presents, a tree, and a feast were standard. And usually some “holiday orphans” joined us for dinner. I’ve broached the subject with my two United States-bound kids. Like me, neither of them feels they need Christmas this time around. But my elderly mother might. So that hangs in the balance.
Why are these days so poignant? How can it be that Saturday is just another day, but Sunday might break my heart? Why has our history done this to us?
There are folks who don’t operate this way. Working out west, I met plenty of young Native American students who couldn’t tell you their dates of birth. It was unimportant in their culture. I’ve met Christians who, for religious reasons, don’t celebrate Christmas in the popular manner. But most of us adhere to holiday traditions, whether or not we honor their original intent.
Is it because we need a break? Days we set aside to rest and be jolly? That’s a very good reason. All working people need more time off. Especially police officers. Teachers have the only sane schedule; Christmas break, spring break, and summers off. (Except that they are pretty much forced to cram 12 months of work into ten months. So don’t think they get off easy!) Imagine if police officers had built-in vacations—long breaks during which it was possible to forget about the stresses of their jobs and then return refreshed. Wouldn’t that be a good thing? It would be good for anybody! Everybody!
Some traditions are just plain fun. It was my family’s custom—when our children were young—to spend Mother’s Day at the Audubon Zoo in New Orleans where Irma Thomas gave a free concert every year and belted out sentiments like “You can have my husband but please don’t mess with my man…” We’d sit right next to the seal pool (I love seals) on a picnic blanket and eat all my favorite foods: Lox, bagels and cream cheese, Milano cookies, and champagne. (In New Orleans, drinking in public was perfectly legal.) We’d dance and sing and when the concert was over, we’d go say hello to the other animals. It was my absolute favorite day of the year. Better than Christmas. By a long shot.
Since we left Louisiana, Mother’s Day has not been a big deal. But this year my kids surprised me—with smoked salmon, fresh bagels, and all the fixins. I don’t guess we’ll be surprising their father on his day—but we’ll eat some stir fry in his honor, cooked in his very own wok.