DINING WITH ALIENS

Turkey day has come and gone (thankfully), and as the song goes, “Still I wonder…?”

Sometimes I wonder if I was adopted. Am I related to these people? It almost makes me want to be a prayin’ man, on occasion. “PLEASE, gawd, tell me I’m no kin o’ these!”

We used to brag that we were dysfunctional prior to when it was trendy, but the current crops of dysfunctionality make us seem tame by comparison (albeit we are a tad louder than most).

My brother-in-law, after a few beers, begins to pick my brain on subjects religious (of course, the loosening of inhibition flows onwards, and before you know it, via the quaffing of far too many ales, somehow my rejection of the existence of a soul translates into nuking the entire Middle East: he’s a Republican in a drunken state of bully pulpit – whoever shouts loudest is right).

Honestly, he’s a terrible debater. And it’s by far much more difficult to have a reasonable debate with people when they don’t allow you to finish your sentences, and decibel level is synonymous with reason.

We managed to argue (shout, really) about numerous topics that swung wildly across the spectrum: I managed to discuss my support of gay marriage, upon which he said (shouted) about how it would ‘undermine his marriage to my sister’, and my little sis, to her credit, stood up and said ‘let them get married. Who cares?’

(I managed to toss a nice bon mot in: He began to rant about it at the dinner table, at which I replied: “If you were married to a man, you might drink less.” General hilarity ensued).

Meanwhile, my elder sister (whose life has apparently taken a turn for the worse: I’d thought she was doing well – we’re not a tight family) decided to drown her depression in alcohol (treating depression with a depressant – that’s smart, yes it is) alternated between sleeping and screaming at my equally drunken brother-in-law about the Shrub (but of course, he dragged Clinton into the criticism – did I say he was a terrible debater? Yes, I did) to the point where we all just stopped trying to mitigate the imbroglio, and went out for a smoke.

I was steamed at my little sis, because earlier I’d told my brother-in-law about the fight we’d had about my praying at the holidays last year (Surprise! She got the whole thing wrong!), and how I just wanted to be excused from it. So when the crucial moment came, she’s asking me to join in (I was trying to bow out), to his credit, brother-in-law chimed in with “Hey, he doesn’t have to participate if he doesn’t want to.” I did after all (she pleaded), but I was steamed. So as we left the screaming match, she asked: “Are we cool?”, I said no. She explained on the porch (with the shouting in the background audible through the walls) that she wanted to avoid the questions, and I got the go-ahead to discuss it with my nephew.

A few words on this:
My nephew is a sweet, odd little guy (actually, he’s almost as big as I am now, heightwise) who is autistic, varying from ‘slightly’ to ‘highly functional’. Somehow, somewhere, he picked up the prayer thing: nobody apparently knows how – they never go to church, aren’t traditionally religious in any sense, outside the lip service. So he’s adopted this in the last few years. I’m a little flattered that I got the go-ahead to speak to him about it – he’s family, but not my kid – but a little irked that she’s had a whole year to prep the kid, and hasn’t. He’s not a social critter, but he can communicate somewhat what he means. He usually comes out, says hi, and goes back to whatever it was that has had his focus prior.

The names have been omitted to protect the strident.

There you have it. The briefest of glimpses into the bedlam that I was born into. We have had some truly memorable holiday moments (remind me to tell you about the time I gave an inflatable love doll to one of my brothers-in-law for Xmas –that was a Kodak moment, I tell ya!) – our family functions are decided failures if not one person is hollering, weeping, or generally incensed.

I love my family, but oy gevalt! There are moments that hermitage sounds like a great idea.

Or, as some wit (I forget whom) once said: “Of course your family can push your buttons. They installed them!”

Hope your holidays were as equally…memorable.

Till the next post then.