Let Me Introduce You to the End

In these final days before Thanksgiving, there's a certain sense in the air. There's a feeling of anticipation, of waiting. The kids have three days of school this week, many workers will have at least one day off, there will be festive gatherings, football on the tv, families will be celebrating together, the lot. It's quite possible there's a good bit of frantic preparation going on in some households today. There's an energy about the nation.

I don't do Thanksgiving, myself; my family always observed the holiday by taking a roadtrip about eight hours south to visit my grandmother in Louisiana, so we were never the "turkey with all the fixings" family. Once I got into college, I was working full time, and that included Thanksgiving Day, so that likewise precluded the normal observances. My political career meant I was often away from home at that time, either just getting started on a new gig or else having just finished up on one and just getting through the end of my contract whilst looking for the next gig.

Yet, even I can feel that sort of energy in the air.

Maybe it's because of the end of the church year- for Catholics, the liturgical year begins on the first Sunday of Advent, which is the next one up. It's a time of preparation, anticipation, and solemnity. Or maybe it's just the knowledge that we're all about to be bombarded by Christmas everything- movies, shows, commercials, the lot. The music will be everywhere, and you won't be able to drive five minutes without encountering someone trying to outdo their neighbors with decor.

That's another thing my family never did- our neighbors put up Christmas lights and decorations outside, but we never did. Of course, growing up in a house that was literally designed to resemble a bunker, I suppose that should've been fairly logical to conclude, but, when you're a kid...

We were never a family to take vacations together, so Christmas just meant about two weeks or so of hanging around the home with the family. If you couldn't infer from my descriptions already, that's not precisely the most exciting thing in my world. My father would mostly grump his way through any holiday, my mother would be trying to fake her way through it, assuring us all that everything was fantastic, until she got sick of it and threw her hands up in defeat, making a martyr of herself. My sister would be her signature surly self, acting like having to get out of bed at noon to dine with the family was a crime against humanity, until my father would be yelling at her, followed by my mother yelling at him, and then we'd gather at the table, and have Christmas dinner, nobody wanting to say much of anything to one another.

And me?

I mostly sat on the sidelines and tried my best to not be noticed. Stayed in my room to avoid all the yelling, and kept my head down, reading my books, playing video games, anything to distract.

That's why it's so strange, these years, that I still have those feelings before the holidays. It's not like I have the best memories of this time of year. My first marriage was in December, but that doesn't exactly make my socks roll up and down; it ended six months later. Two of my divorces happened in December- that's not precisely stuff to go celebrating about. I'm single and that doesn't look like it's going to change anytime soon, and my housemate will likely be celebrating with her boyfriend through both Thanksgiving and Christmas, so I'll be flying solo through the holidays in all aspects.

Is it something just about the holidays in general? Do I still have that hope for that kind of energy? Or some kind of belief that things might actually work out for the best, in the end?

It's something to think about, especially on this cool, cloudy, misty day in southwest Missouri.

So, dear readers, what are your thoughts thereupon? Do you approach the holidays with anticipation or dread? Is there an energy you're feeling, or is it just a product of my own view on the world? Do feel free to let me know.