The Crackpots and These Women

Thanksgiving gave me the opportunity to think about women quite a bit.  I was home with my dad's family for the holiday and was lucky enough to enjoy the holiday with three generations of women, including my brand new niece, Keaghan.  It also included Keaghan's mom, Kendra, Keaghan's great-Aunts, Ingrid and Miggie and Keaghan's Grandma, Sandi. Unavailable for participation was Keaghan's grandma-like person, my Momma, Judy, who is in the process of becoming bionic. The men were there too, but this blog isn't focusing on them.  And not because I don't think that men are important or equal of wonderful.  This is not meant to open a debate on gender roles and traditional gender assignments.  I am not man hating or man-excluding.  I understand with absolute clarity ideas of gender, sex and sexuality spectrum's.  Men are wonderful.  I love the men in my life, I used to be married to a man.  One of my dogs is a man-dog.  My favorite being that ever existed was male. But, for me, the holidays are about the power of "these women".

 The first woman I thought about was my Momma because I had my first taste of what she pulls off almost annually, offering people a Thanksgiving feast that is nothing short of totally fucking amazing.   She couldn't participate in the Turkey-Day madness this year, but she was with me in spirit.  In fact, I was so inspired by the taste of throwing a Thanksgiving, that I am proclaiming here, that next year, I am going to try my hand at doing the whole thing myself. It's funny, I had always thought of it as this chore that I wanted nothing to do with, but I realized this year that it is a Rite of Passage for me to accept the responsibility for these traditions from my momma, especially because she is still here to call in a panic when I mess it all up. 

I thought even more about mommas and women as I watched my sister who is breast-feeding Miss Keaghan, who is two weeks old.  Actually, I watched her simultaneously chase after two 17-month olds (my twin nieces), carve turkey and breast-feed all at once because that is what women do, especially at the holidays; 100 things at once without blinking.  In one night I watched her: finish making a dinner for 9 adults & three children, take pictures with said children in not one but two different holiday dresses, breast feed, try and eat dinner, change diapers, breast feed, participate in conversations, dry tears, breast feed....she was so beautiful, so graceful in the total overwhelm of a life that is what life is for young families.  It wasn't anything exceptional, yet it was absolutely the most magnificent choreography I have ever borne witness to.  

Then there was my aunt Miggie, my Dad's sister.  She has begun coming down more often, to be with Sandi and my Dad during my Dad's illness.  I think that is what women instinctively do, they pull the circle together, around the family, when hard times come.  She spent almost the entire time rubbing my Dads feet, trying to control the swelling.  She is a master at this having done it for my grandpa and grandma during their transitions and also, most recently, her sister-in law who passed last month.  I listened to her tell story after story about family members.  The whole time she sat in the same spot rubbing my Dad's feet.  Letting him know he is loved and sharing her healing energy with him.  She promised me that if it does come time for my Dad to leave us, my Grandma Harris will come for him and even though I am usually not a believer in things like that, after watching these women during Thanksgiving, I am sure that is true.

I think that woman are the greater point of the season, after all.  These women. Your women.  All women. They aren't mentioned much in the songs or in the symbolism.  We are told Jesus is the reason for the season and we look for Santa Claus, but I would like to offer that they are not the entire point.  Jesus does not get here at all without his Mom and Santa would not be able to find the keys to the sleigh, let alone get around the world delivering the presents, without Mrs. Claus. When I called down two days before Thanksgiving it was my Sandi-Mom, out of breath trying to care for my Dad, clean house and get the Christmas tree out, so that pictures could be taken.  That's what first provoked me to consider the ever present amazingness of these women. She sounded tired, but determined.  In fact, I think that should be the catch phrase for all of them....tired, but determined to do this....to create and sustain life.  Because that is what women do.   

This poem says it better than I can.  So I stole it.

Thank you, to all of my women.  I love you. Happy Thanksgiving & Merry Christmas

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am kind of an asshole about Christmas.  Probably not even kind of.  For most of my adult life, I have been a complete asshole about Christmas.  If it is possible to have arguments "against" Christmas, I have had them and have spent the last 20 plus years insisting on making them to anyone within range.  In my defense, my arguments are all valid and totally well thought out.  They even vary and range from environmental: the holiday season is a huge drain on already drained resources.....the lights, the paper, the fuel-related travel and package shipping....it is a ridiculously wasteful time of year; to financial: that the mass-market feeding frenzy of consumerism and stuff-buying is everything that is wrong with Western culture; to philosophical: the tiny issue of patriarchal religions basically stealing ideas from Goddess-cultures and flat-out making up holidays based on zero factual evidence. I have had my hands full with reasons not to buy in to this season. Throw in the years I spent on drugs and I have probably managed to dismiss, if not totally miss the holidays my entire adult life.  Even when I was around for Christmas, it was not without some self-righteous caveat about drowning polar bears or starving Hondurans or gifts wrapped in newspaper.

I know.  Total asshole.

But not this year.  This year I am selling out or buying in or whatever.  This year, I am Celebrating.  I am watching every movie, listening to Christmas radio, decorating the house, my office, the car, the dogs.  I am going to every cookie/holiday/work/neighborhood/tree-lighting/parade I can find.  I am having at least one of every holiday concoction Starbucks and Peets can come up with.  I am building a ginger-bread house.  I am tree-trimming and light-lighting and snow-finding.  I am wrapping presents and buying things people absolutely do not need in any way.  I am making Jenner wear antlers and taking ridiculous selfies with him and Rain and Birdy in front of our massive tree.  I am baking cookies for Santa and staying up till the wee hours of the night on 12/24 looking for Rudolph.  And most important of all, I am going to believe.  Whatever anyone is selling, this year I am going to Believe. In. It.  Elves, Oil-Buning Miracles, Virgin Births, Flying Reindeer, Angels named Clarence, Ringing Bells, Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Future, Tiny Tim's New Legs, 34th Street, all of it.  I'm in. I am totally in.

Here's why.  Here is the why of all whys.  When given the choice of picking either joy and fluff and miracles or joyless, harsh, reality.  I say, pick Joy.  Life is going to give you enough times when you don't get a choice.  When your only option is joyless, harsh, reality.  Situations that just do not have any light; so, when there is a choice in the matter, pick the fucking light.  Even if it is light you have to make up and string up.  Even if it is light that you think should be turned off to save energy, just go with it. Go with the Joy behind door number one.  The light at the end of the tunnel.  Give yourself some time to be soft and gooey and full of too much hot chocolate.

See, the holiday season in this country is the agreed upon time for all of us to be less of an asshole. I think maybe that is why we have tried to start celebrating it earlier and earlier. We make things pretty.  We engage, kindly, with people we normally wouldn't.  We care about other people having enough, we donate time, we buy into and tell stories with one common thread and that thread is the greatest gift anyone can ever give anyone: Hope.  The Earth makes us slow down with colder weather and less light.  We admire trees and ache for snow.  Frankly, we become better versions of ourselves.....or we have the opportunity too.  And we get the chance to make memories and to use our time wisely.

And time.  Oh my goodness, the importance of time.  While, I try not to regret too many things, because it is a useless way to spend energy, every once in a while I get a cold blast of a reminder of all of the time I missed either in my addiction, or even worse, so caught up in my own world that I just assumed I would always have next year.  Here's the thing about next year.....it doesn't always happen, and even if it does, it is going to be vastly different than this year, the one happening right now.  Kids will be older, loved ones may be in different places, wars could start, people you think will always be there will die.  You may lose your job or win the lottery or get a dog, or get a tattoo, or get sick; the point is you will not be the same next year.  You are not the same as you were last year....nothing is really the same as it was last year, it can't be. And I can tell you the worst sadness in the world is to reflect upon years past and think: "I wish I'd bothered."

So.  This year, I am bothering.  From now on, I am bothering.  I am checking out of all intellectual reasoning for the next six weeks.  42 days of Jingling Bells, Cookies, Yelling out Happy Holidays to EVERYONE, and hopefully, with enough belief, a miracle or two. I hope you will do the same.  Don't miss stuff.  As brilliant as your arguments may be, they don't stand a chance against the need to create a time of Hope, so when the sleigh comes by, just get in and enjoy the ride.

And they heard her exclaim as she wrote out of sight:

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL
AND TO ALL A GOOD LIFE.  xoxoxoxoxo