thanksgiving 2015: checking it off the list

it's going to be a perfunctory thanksgiving this year.

my husband and i have a small family locally. it consists of my brother's widow, her son, his fiance and their 2 year old daughter.  presently, they are living together in my sister in law's large home, while my nephew's home is remodeled. we all live within maybe 2 miles of each other. my husband's two brothers and their families live near his parents on the east coast.

it has been decided that because "it's easier" thanksgiving will be at sister in law's, and store-bought food will be provided by our hostess. i'm sure it will all taste fine, there will be plenty to eat and the little girl will be fun and funny during the couple hours we will be visiting.

so why am i so disappointed by this?

i guess i was hoping for the kind of thanksgiving i grew up with, where you schlepped to some relative's home you only went to on holidays and as soon as the door opened your mouth starts watering from the aromas issuing from the kitchen. the kind of thanksgiving where there's a gang of relatives/people around a groaning table of food cooked specifically for us, with love.

and the food, all the food on the table is someone's famous recipe, love it or hate it. those special requests everyone remembers year to year about what kind of cranberry sauce and what not to put in the stuffing mix. the dishes are a mismatched blend (who has service for 10 anymore?) but there's grandma's special serving platter from her wedding china, almost 100 years old now, and the flatware is mom's silverplate, even though this means a lot of hand washing after dinner.

i suppose the conversation in my fantasy thanksgiving could happen in real life, catching up on news of friends far away, silly debates about the merits of sweet potatoes vs. russets, and repetition of family stories that, although everyone knows the punchline, get a laugh every time.

i even miss the old-fashioned aftermath: women clearing and washing up, men watching football and dozing. those priceless relaxed conversations you have with dear ones when you are shoulder to shoulder, full of turkey and pie, in front of a basin of dirty dishes and soapy water.

this year, there will be no roasting pan to soak, no precious keepsakes to gently hand wash and the recipes will not have names that refer to anyone i know. we'll eat the usual menu items, and save the leftovers in the disposable containers they came in. dishes, if we don't use paper, will just be dropped in the dishwasher, no need to waste all that water filling up the sink. no one will have to spend any time in the kitchen.

it is easier. it's just easier, what with the little one and "all that." pretty perfunctory, like checking off something on a list: "thanksgiving dinner with family, check!" but i don't think thanksgiving is supposed to be about "easier".

i'm planning to put a turkey, a small one, in my oven before i leave the house to perfume it with that thanksgiving aroma. and when i come home, i will whip up some mashed potatoes, lumpy, with way too much butter. i will steam some broccoli until it's just the crispy tender i like and i will roast some sweet potatoes with cinnamon and maple. i'll make the stuffing the way my mom taught me, with all the things i like and none of the ones i don't. and i will set the table with Nana's wedding china and mom's silverplate, and hand wash it afterward, for my husband and i to have our own thanksgiving.

we will call upon the memories of other years, other lifetimes really, to crowd the table with cheer and sweetness and love. maybe pull out an old photo album and marvel at photos of years past, faces gone now and remembered fondly. we'll stand together in the kitchen washing the pots and pans, talking about nothing and everything until there's no sign but for a plate of leftovers that there ever was a thanksgiving cooked here.

so no, it's not as easy, but i want more than easy. don't misunderstand, i'm grateful for the family i have. i am grateful for the ability to share a meal with them in warmth and safety, for the food they will provide.  they are doing what they can or want to do.

i just plan on giving us a thanksgiving that's not easier.

friday 12:45pm

Local lunch place
Pizza, salad, all you can eat
Here comes a young Marine
So proud
Holding his lid in his hands like it was fragile
Ramrod straight posture
A woman tells him "You look great in your uniform."
"Thank you ma'am."
"My dad was a Marine," she says with a surprising lump in her throat
"Sharpshooter?" as she points to his medal
"Expert. Sharpshooter is the cross."
Mom and grandma fuss over him
They pass around a greeting card after he reads it.
Birthday? Basic training graduation?
Another young man is with them
He wears a flag tie
Brother? Cousin?
They exchange a few words and there is clearly an intimate relationship
But not necessarily romantic
The non-marine faintly pings my gaydar
Maybe childhood friends who have worked past the idea that one is gay?
And now grandpa awakes from his doze
"These people in southern California..." he starts to lecture
All the while marine mom scans her phone
She can't look at him in his unform without awakening
her fears of a death
of a catastrophic injury.
She looks at my beer with longing

"Come From Away" at La Jolla Playhouse

Last night I had a real treat, I was invited to attend the final dress rehearsal of "Come From Away" at the La Jolla Playhouse, home of San Diego's bench team for Broadway. The World Premiere is tonight.

I asked my friend/niece-in-law (ugh that's a mouthful I'll just stick to "friend") Christy to come with me.  Yesterday morning when I mentioned it was a musical, her face fell. I asked if she liked musicals and she said with her customary honesty (one of the reasons I love her) "Not really".   I guess at that point we both were apprehensive about how enjoyable this might be for her.

I'm not going to make you read the whole thing before I tell you Christy loved it, as did I.

The story is one so rich in characters and emotions that I am surprised no one has done anything with it up to now. It tells of the day when planes flying from around the world were grounded in the wake of the 9/11 attacks and 38 of them ended up landing in Gander Newfoundland.  Some seven thousand people of all ages, walks of life and speaking an assortment of languages were on those planes.The story of how the town of Gander, population just under 10,000, took them in for the few days no planes were flying is heartwarming, funny and ultimately inspiring.

I've never written a theater review, so forgive me if I don't cover what the standard review does. What I want to write about is how wonderfully clever the staging was, using only a scattering of wooden chairs and a couple of tables to stand in for everything from a 747 in the air to an elementary school to a locals' bar in the "gayest town in Newfoundland!" (you'll have to see the show to get it)

Even more clever, and wonderfully talented, was the group of 12 actors who portrayed multiple characters with multiple accents while singing the great score-- the lyrics are funny and poignant in turn. Oh and whilst dancing, and moving the stage furniture around as well. A wonderful ensemble, and impossible to pick any one as a favorite.

The characters move back and forth between talking to the audience and talking to each other. It sounds like it might be awkward but it isn't and the singing fits into the scenes pretty naturally. Again, not your standard Broadway blockbuster.

And I will remind you to bring a hankie, because as uproariously funny as some scenes are, the scenes where the various characters learn what has happened are emotional. Maybe part of that is relating to their feelings-- we all know where and how we heard the dreadful news.

The show has its world premiere tonight, and I predict it will be a big hit here, and across the country. If you have a chance, and even if you don't like musicals, go see "Come From Away".  I'll bet you'll be glad you experienced this wonderful show.

they say he is a bad boss: dave roberts is in trouble

San Diego County Supervisor Dave Roberts in a 
pensive mood...or maybe plotting against employees?

so enjoying reading the county version of l'affair filner. several scenes cross my mind as i read...

i imagine dave roberts' husband reading everyday about how this harold meza fellow does nothing but drive dave around, that they have shared hotel rooms on trips...on and on it drips out, detail by ever-worsening detail.

he has choices to make, first to decide his approach to the time-honored role of wronged spouse of a politician. stay off the radar, say nothing, maybe a "long-planned visit to family across the country"? have a press conference to defend your man and show everyone you are together? how about a joint interview on some news program?

the private choices must be tough. at the level of a couple in a relationship, we all have our boundaries and each relationship has its own set of policies and procedures. outside of the two of them, we have no way of knowing how roberts' office behavior is seen by his husband. i can tell you how i would receive news of the sort we have been reading were it my politician husband, but that's irrelevant.

as for meza, i imagine the guy has more admirers than before, as if being the special favorite of an idiotic countysupervisor had endowed him with hitherto unnoticed charm and erudition. in fact the supervisor's lawyer even said something about how meza helped roberts get ready for speeches while driving him, so he must be, as the kids say, hella smart.  bet he ends up with a good job on the basis of that.

the greek chorus of former employees is just warming up i think, and i expect to continue following this story as it lumbers to its denouement. if i had to guess, id say there will be money paid and one less roberts on the county board of supervisors.

stay tuned.

live a little

i can't remember if it was corned beef or pastrami i ordered. i know it was one of them because when i think of this i see the meat is an unnatural pink.

i had never been to new york city before and i had never heard of the carnegie deli either. i didn't know they were famous for monumental sandwiches; i was just hungry, it was late and the place was open.

i also can't remember what i said about the size of the sandwich the guy was making for me. maybe i just made a noise, or maybe i said "whoa!". i do remember a thrill of fear when he slapped down the big knife he used to cut the tower of meat and bread in half. i had made him angry i thought.

he turned, and with a whole-body gesture i'd seen in movies with "new york guy" characters-- shoulders up in an exaggerated shrug, palms flopped over facing the ceiling, chin thrust up-- implored me to "live a little!"

wow. yes. "live a little" indeed.

say yes more often. take a risk sometimes. be in the moment, don't think about whether you should or not, give yourself a treat, bite off more than you can chew.

thanks deli man, i hear you.

(for CR, whose story i borrowed)