Holidays are tricky for me. They tend to
bring back a great deal of unpleasantness growing up in a dysfunctional
household. My mother longed for the Norman Rockwell scene of a happy family
around a table, yet she never got that, or at least not during my time growing
up in that household. My father would find any place else to be, and she’d then
sulk. Maybe that’s why spending the holidays alone never bothered me. You get
to watch what you want and no harassing questions about your life.
Married life changed that to a certain
extent, with us visiting my in-laws during Christmas time until a combination
of weather concerns and consistent and overwhelming work obligations for my
husband made that too challenging. The last three years we’ve spent alone at
home (with our cat), doing little of what’s expected of people at the holidays.
I’m always fascinated when people tell me
what they and their families do for the holidays, and am thankful that I’m
married to a vegetarian who will never expect me to master either a turkey or a
ham for dinner. After a very slow moving Thanksgiving where my husband mostly recuperated
and I watched an old Michael Powell-Emeric Pressburger film (The Small Back Room), I managed to get a
salad, potato dish, and corn muffins made, but that was it, before succumbing
to a disappointing viewing of The Way We
Were. Much like many other films that I enjoyed years ago, I’m finding a different experience watching them now. As a young woman, this film had seemed
so romantic. Redford of course was yummy, but it was anything but romantic to
me now.
I tried to be more together for Christmas
Eve, making roast potatoes and green beans, getting cheeses, and heating up a
pre-baked gluten free apple pie. Once again we saw a film of my youth, but
strangely it held up better – Smokey and
the Bandit. Yes, that is indeed what we watched on Christmas Eve. I noticed
after Burt Reynolds died that the film was added to the streaming service, so I
put it on our watch list. My husband had surprisingly never seen it; I’d only
seen it edited for TV, but the ridiculous chase scenes along with budding
feminism and sexual innuendos, was just the right level of lightness without
the sappy holiday film sentimentalism. Plus, I just couldn’t deal with watching
what used to be some of my most loved holiday movies (White Christmas, Holiday Inn, Christmas in Connecticut). I don’t
know if my tastes are changing or it’s just the times we’re living in, but
typical holiday fare just didn’t seem right to me.
I still keep thinking we need to create some
sort of holiday traditions of our own that will last a while. I’m not sure Burt
Reynolds films will fit the bill each time, but perhaps something else will
click.