Creative Good Riddance
The idea behind this blog is examining the creative process and creativity in the context of the many aspects of one’s self. They all combine to form the woman (or man), and they inform one another. Being a better writer makes me a better mom; being a crappy mom, recognizing it and correcting it can make me a better friend, writer, mom; being a photographer gives me insight into outdoor writing, etc.
If I were to follow the Holidailies writing prompt strictly, I might talk about getting rid of some stuff that was weighing me down, of unpacking boxes, of a garage sale and thrift store run. I might mention Flylady and my shiny sink, or I might touch on the letting go of my dead loved ones, both the good and the bad memories.
But what comes to mind is letting go of the expectation that the holidays are any particular way, or that the remaining family will respond to any differently now that the old ones are gone. To let go of the notion that any kind of legacy lives on is possibly the most difficult part of this whole thing.
Is this part of grief? Learning to let go of the memories and the expectations of the future? That seems to be another death to me. It feels too fresh. Or is this just another level in the process?
When I think of the traditions and legacy left behind, I want to see the blue plates - oversized platters to hold all the gorgeous foods that we loaded the table down with on Christmas Day. I see the spiced peaches, the olive tray, the mismatched wine glasses. I hear Kling Glöckchen, Rosemary Clooney and Vivaldi. Always Vivaldi. I smell cinnamon, bayberry and brandy. And I see my parents, my younger brother (the elder was always off with the military or college), a dog or two and a stack of elegant and restrained presents. Books, music, wallets, scarves, PJs, sweaters, shirts, maybe a big ticket make-up set or b/w television. I see my own homemade gifts – always in the minority, though my dad loved his shirts, cookies, potholders. And I see checks for the kids, usually with an extra zero. Something to “go get yourself what you really want.”
But this is not what any of the remaining living people now see as Christmas, nor – more importantly – do I figure into their holiday traditions. All this changed long long ago, perhaps in the 1980s. I am just now realizing that they are the ones who creatively moved on and got rid of all those “old” things years and years ago. I was de-cluttered. I was relegated to the card list, the “oh god, what do we get for your sister/my aunt?” situation level. The response to my gifts – usually books, sometimes homemade or hand-picked items, sometimes checks for the pre-adolescent kids – is white noise. Yes, I’ve been de-cluttered! And I am just now realizing it? Gah. What colossal embarrassment.
I don’t even want to know why. If I pieced together the past years’ evidence, it wouldn’t take a CSI: Miami gold-toned techno/trance lab montage to put it together. It’s pretty clear, but I just don’t want to, can’t go there. Not right now.
So why in the hell am I agonizing over what to do for Christmas? Why not just do whatever me and the Kid do, and enjoy (or don’t enjoy) it and just dispense with the drama? It’s all old news anyway. Better to rent a bunch of Bette Davis movies for the drama (All About Eve is on top of that list). Better yet, make a drama-free movie of our own. Write PostSecret cards that do not shock, appall, reveal or impress. “Happy Generic Holidays!”
If they sold Christmas In A Box, I think I’d buy one. Just open it up, follow the instructions and enjoy!(tm) The prospect of that actually makes me feel a little light-hearted and gay, good American consumer that I am. (And if such a product doesn’t exist, I might make a killing and market one. But you’ll have to wait until 2008).
In the meantime, this holiday will be a “love the one you’re with” time because there’s beauty in simplicity, in the here and now. I have an obligation to sing on Christmas Eve, and we’ve been invited to another family’s (not mine) dinner on Christmas Day. The in-between parts will just be what they are, with no drama. Maybe there will be blue plates, but there will definitely be chocolate. And then maybe we’ll say good riddance to a few dollars at Six Flags or Sea World, connect the dots on our I-10 travels, and be anonymous in new places on the map.
Maybe this year, under cover of anonymity, I can have a holiday where I do let go, where I say goodbye to all but the most immediate connections and start rebuilding an authentic life, from the roots.