oldernow

so I've been thinking about the holidays and trying to think of a Christmas that was fun. This one surely won't be that great: my mom is due to have thyroid surgery in a couple of weeks--she's 85 and it's probably cancer. I can't get out there because my pancreas has busted, which may put me in the hospital soon, and my sister can't get to her either, because she just shattered her knee and won't be walking for about 4 months. we'll manage, as we always do, but it's likely neither our best or worst. Worst would be when my Grandma dropped dead bringing food to the table.

so best? I think it's a tie. when I was quite young I was at a midnight mass, and had a profound vision of the meaning and power of the ceremony--it was like living inside a symbol or a dream. in that moment I knew a great deal about the beauty and power of Christianity, and also knew that I was not, nor could ever be put in that finite box. that was good.

sometime later my first wife and I got a chance to be on Captiva Island in Florida where we had the mansion of a millionaire client of mine to ourselves. We drove straight down from New York and were utterly exhausted when we arrived at the front door. only to find it locked. we slept in the car, that being the best financial option we had. The next morning I was standing on the deck of this house, just looking at the ocean, waiting for the locksmith to come (the owners had called him, since mailing a key to us would have done fuck-all for our vacation), and my sweet wife came zipping up the stairs with eyes as big as saucers and her mouth wide open. She was speechless - and unusual condition for a Gemini! She simply put her arms directly in front of her and clapped them together--like an alligator biting down on something. When she finally found words it turned out she had stepped into some bushes to pee and peed on the head of an alligator. Both were surprised and parted ways rather quickly! the rest of that week was blissful and I remember it as pastel in color and tropical in cuisine. we cooked and walked, and worked on the books we were editing in good harmony. we had little to remind us of the season, and no one knew exactly where we were. so it was an Un-Chrstmas, and that was quite the best.

there surely have been good moments, shared moments with lovers, wives, family and friends, but usually in the context of obligations, strained dynamics, unmet expectations, and awkward meals. I've learned to eat before going to my sister's house--she truly makes a lasagna with V8 or tomato juice and a cheese spread (velveeta). She got that recipe from my mom. We love to eat rasam and various epicurious-bred veggie dishes, finishing with a (gasp) fruitcake or some whiskey-pumpkin pie, and whenever possible step out of the stream of the collective images and sounds. We accomplish this through the kind offices of one of our many stuffed animals (I'll see if I can finally figure out how to insert his image here). His name is Muff, short for Mufferson, a distant relative of Emerson. Muff was left in a closet for 10 years and came out somewhat temporally addled. He recognizes human holidays but never gets them right. Last year 12/25 was St. Patricks day due to all the greenery; the year before is was Super Bowl Sunday because so many 'super' bowls of food were around. I think this year we'll be having President's Day on 12/25, but you never know!