"Nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it."
- L.M. Montgomery, The Story Girl
Ah, the holidays, they are upon us....
And, so, too, are the quickened pace of gift-getting and meal-planning and vacation-planning and ... so on. And, yet, what are the holidays really all about? Most of us would probably say that they're about family, which is supposed to mean spending quality time with our loved ones. What it can also mean is preparing for the inevitable friction that can result whenever people who know each other well get together for an extended visit.
Or it could mean rising above this, focusing on the big picture and staying above it all in a detached, Zen-like way.... (Yeah, right!?!)
Some might say that the holidays are a time of faith and of observing the sacred moments associated with this time of year. Also, in a more secular sense, they can be about renewal and the opportunity to change with the calendar.
For me, all of these are true: the holidays are about reveling in quality time with one's family and loved ones, of celebrating the promise of new life based in faith and of choosing to change in order to enhance one's experience in the near term.
And yet they're also about something else for me now: the holidays are a time to express gratitude by consciously making memories. Amidst the hubbub of the season, I've decided to try to create special moments for those I love, however modest these may be, in an offering of what matters most and is eternal: the love that we share with and extend to each other.
So far this Thanksgiving, among other things, this has taken the form of sharing great news with my gathered family (and having it shared on my behalf with another branch thereof gathered elsewhere) and of a brief but memorable journey to one of my sacred places, the wonder of which is now a shared experience among us all. Next up is a fun getaway weekend with my Beloved and a Christmas with modest but meaningful gifts and a different type of gathering by which to enhance the celebration.
The genesis of the idea is simple: this year, as in years past, as I drove with my family to our annual Thanksgiving gathering with (almost all of) the Bookers, I couldn't help but think of my own many happy memories of family gatherings on this sacred but technically secular holiday ... and I regaled them with stories of crazy uncles I had to watch out for, aunts with mustaches that tickled when you kissed them on the cheek, a grandmother with so many grandkids that while I always felt special to her I also felt less unique and crazy and slightly sadistic older cousins possessed of a warped sense of responsibility to help me "be(come) a man" by hazing in me in ways that would now be considered illegal. In other words, you know, great times!
And I encouraged the kids to see the upcoming Thanksgiving gathering as just that: an opportunity to create memories to be savored for a lifetime (in a much safer way than during my own youth, of course).
And it happened: I'm pretty sure that we'll all remember when two of the three of them actually tried chitlins, joining generations of African-Americans who've savored this delicacy and its rich cultural heritage and legacy. (Actually, I suspect that what we really learned is that the tradition of chitlins is virtually guaranteed to stop with their generation, at least on my limb of the family tree....) And I know that I'll long remember that journey into North Newark to visit the site of a legendary local Italian bakery to purloin two of the desserts that were so ravenously consumed that their time out of the box in which they were presented could be measured in mere seconds. And who can forget the experience of everyone jamming into the kitchen to listen to recordings of family gatherings from more than a half-century before? (Yep, that's right: my dear late uncle Robbie, God bless him, had the foresight to record those Thanksgiving events on an ancient tape recorder so that more than fifty-five years later we can hear now 60+-year old relatives as they sounded when they were little kids, learning to perform "Jesus Loves Me This I Know" in front of the friendliest audience ever, and the voices of those who've gone on to a better place but whose presence lingers and loves those of us who were fortunate to know them in their time on earth.) And then there was the next day's trip to Newport....
And therein lies the lesson that I've learned about the holidays: to savor the experience and thereby to create memories that encourage us to keep savoring and living and loving.
And was there a little drama to go along with the festivities? Not really. It's one of the things that I appreciate most about the Bookers, my father's side of the family: they really do love each other and enjoy each others' company and other than minor squabbling over the proper sequencing of foodstuffs in the buffet line or who's responsible for the black eyed peas being a half-hour late in preparation, there really wasn't much drama to record, as there typically isn't. (I also appreciate that this may be a unique experience from others' perspectives, but I hope that whatever drama you did experience was outweighed by the joy and hilarity of your family gathering ... or, if it wasn't, you're more than welcome to join us next year!)
So, memory collecting season is now in full swing. I hope that you, too, are gifted with - and gift yourself with - moments to be savored for a lifetime, and, in so doing, experience the eternal in the here and now. Wherever your journey leads, may you recognize and appreciate the blessings of this life in the moment and for all time ... and avoid that crazy uncle and learn to kiss that scratchy-faced aunt mid-cheek....
My most sincere wishes for a safe, happy, restorative, enriching and ever-memorable holiday experience to you all!
