I’ve been getting this question a lot. Perhaps because I work around children. Truthfully, I haven’t really thought of anything I wanted because I wasn’t expecting to get anything. Life is funny like that. So, the last time Emilie asked me this I just said “to be able to pass a good vacation in London.” Although I suppose getting a new mac charger a few weeks ago (for my laptop that just turned a year old Dec. 12th) is more than enough present-wise.
It struck me for the first time last week what it actually meant, not going home for Christmas. I didn’t really think it would be a big deal. Which really, it isn’t. I’ll be going somewhere I’ve always wanted to, see a familiar face, and speak my mother tongue without feeling bad. But it hit me with the fresh scent of pine indoors that I really was about to spend my first Christmas away from home. That amazing smell carried with it the feel of Christmas… Smell is the closest of the senses to memory.
And even though this has nothing to do with France, I’m going to tell two stories. My favourite part of Christmas has become the getting a tree on the last day of school for JCPS then going to eat at Cunningham’s on 4th street. Then, of course, we spend the next day decorating. But over the years fewer and fewer of us decorate the tree. The boys are lame and do other stuff.
Anyway, the past two years, the eating part was interesting. It’s been one of the few times when the six of us have been together without big fights. Two years ago, I was a few weeks away from leaving to study in Northern France. Robert brought his (now ex) girlfriend with him. It was the first time someone else came with us. Luckily Cunnigham’s has private rooms that we usually sit in. They’re designed like horse stalls because in the original restaurant, they were redone horse stalls.
So, it was the 7 of us: my parents, me, Robert, Ryann, Rachel, and Madison. (Figure out which name doesn’t belong and you know which one is the old girlfriend.) As far as I remember, we were just eating and talking normally.
Ryann, who would have been 16 then, asked something like,”Why is Daddy the only one out of his brothers that got married and had kids?”
My mom: I think it has something to do with me. (sitting up very straight and proud, obviously meaning that my dad liked her enough to break through to his distant emotions)
Ryann: (blankly) What… you mean they all wanted you?
Mom: Yes, that’s it. They drew straws, and-
Dad: And I got the short one.
Robert, my mom, and I started laughing really hard. My mom threw her straw paper at him. She missed.
Ryann: I don’t get it.
Rachel was sitting at the end of the table. She said “What just happened?”
Every time I tried to explain it to my dear sisters (yes, Ryann is a girl) I got lost in laughing. I thought about how accurate of a representation of my family that was. Ryann asking random questions, not understanding the answer, asking questions that might be dumb, and then sitting there in complete incomprehension. Both of my parents being sarcastic, my dad saying obnoxious teasing things to my mom. Although usually Rachel says, “Oh my God, Ryann! You’re so dumb!” They are only 16 months apart, after all. You can’t expect them to be nice to each other.
Last year, Robert and Ryann got into a “who can do the weirdest thing with their tongue” war. Of course, the two middle children. That wasn’t the weird part. The weird part is when the waitress came in, My dad or someone said they should show her their bizarre talents. I don’t remember which of them can do which thing, but I’m pretty sure it’s that Robert can put the tip on his bottom teeth and move his tongue so that it does waves and Ryann can turn hers sideways so that it looks like it’s flipping around. Robert’s is also long enough to touch his nose. I missed out these tongue tricks… The only thing I can do is curl mine.
Robert showed off to the waitress. She was freaked out. Ryann got shy and didn’t want to show hers, but she eventually did. The waitress was freaked out.
Oh, and Robert also shared his great philosophical thought that hit him during his first semester of college. His “pondering,” I think he called it. Or “ponder-ment.” And it took him forever to get it all out.
Here it is in a semi-coherrent form: Let’s assume that aliens are real. Which most people do, but whatever. [wasn’t aware that most people believed in aliens…] So. There are blue aliens and green aliens. But the blue aliens see the green aliens as blue, and the green aliens see the blue aliens as green. The blue aliens observe Earth, and report that humans are the dominant life form. So the green aliens observe Earth to see if they’re right. Now. Do you think that when the green aliens see the humans walking their dogs and picking up their poop that they’ll still say humans are the dominant life form?
Interesting point, but I’m not sure what it has to do with the green aliens and blue aliens and them having weird colour perceptions. I come from an interesting family.
Okay, I lied. Three stories. My dad and the four of us (usually) go to Hadley Potter company to get my mom’s Christmas present. The most interesting things they make are farm animal wall plaques. But they also have the same images on dishes and household things like… Salt shakers. They also have ornaments, personalized things, Louisville-themed stuff, and doorknobs. Spoon rests and butter dishes are things we’ve gone through more than one of. I’m going to stop sounding like an advertsement and just show pictures to explain what I mean.
So, cute stuff. We’ve kinda run out of animals to get her, even with their extension of water animals. Oh, and they also have big and little versions of the wall plaque animals. When I insisted that my dad put the babies with their mums, he of course didn’t. And we have multiple baby rabbits.
Anyway, the pottery place is downtown or at least close. On the car ride there, Rachel told my dad she was irritated because he promised to show her the projects and he never did. We passed some sort of slaughterhouse/ meat delivery place… And Robert told about how he visited the Purnell’s slaughterhouse for school and detailed how he watched them kill pigs. It’s mostly humane, at least there in Shelby County.
I’m so glad I’m not an Ag major.
Ryann was protesting how mean that was and how she hated meat. Except chicken.
On the way home, instead of heading back home, my dad turned the truck the other direction. Rachel asked, “Where are we going?”
My dad: To the projects.
Rachel: Really?!
So we drove through the poor part of town. It was interesting, because as far as government subsidized housing goes, there were some complexes that my dad helped build once upon a time. And on some streets, there were falling apart boarded up houses but the other side looked nice. Everyone stared at my dad’s truck, because it’s big for pulling around a trailer full of water pipes.We saw someone get arrested. Rachel was thrilled.
Ryann: What did he do? Why is he being arrested? Who is he?
Rachel: I don’t know, Ryann! God, you’re so dumb!
Yep, I have an interesting family.
Tree from two years ago, I think, all decorated and lit up.
Very Victorian staircase. I believe I did them that year.
Fire! I could have used this a couple of days ago…
I baked 90something cookies. I showed all of the above photos to one of my classes in teaching about Christmas. So they’re going to think all Americans live in 100 year old Victorian-style farmhouses that their dads keep from falling apart.
Rachel being goofy. She looks so much like Ryann in this picture that when I showed it to my dad, he thought it was Ryann. She might kill me if she knew I was posting this.
Relating this back to France: it’s really weird how strict they are about no religion in schools but they have Christmas trees in classrooms and don’t have a problem talking about the commercialized aspect of the holiday. An Asian girl in one of my classes said she celebrates it even though her family is Buddhist, as I suspect many people in the US do… But the teachers got nervous any time a kid asked if we had nativity scenes in the US. Cultures are different.