THANKSGIVING? MORE LIKE ‘ANGST-GIVING!’
Think your Thanksgiving was bad? Well, it probably was. But mine was even more miserable! Then again, maybe not. One thing about my Thanksgiving, though: It provided a venting of suppressed grudges amongst the various members of the Phil X-clan, and at the same time, resolved nothing. I guess we can try again next year, right? Woo-hoo, hand me the antacids…
We enjoyed the traditional Turkey Day fare: stuffed bird, cranberry sauce, all sorts of potatoes, fresh crab, desserts piled up on top of each other. But it was only a matter of time before the old grudges materialized. My eldest uncle started eating rice, so his son, my cousin Roy, told him not to. See, Eldest Uncle has some sort of kidney problem as a result of smoking his entire life and not taking care of himself. According to Roy, a few weeks ago Eldest Uncle woke up and his face was swollen like a basketball. His doctor advised him to give up rice and meat, and to eat vegetables and soup unless he wanted to, like, die. Eldest Uncle, however, says he will eat whatever he wants. There’s conflict #1.
Conflict #2 was between my cousin Miranda and my grandma, who has never liked Miranda’s mom, my aunt, because she was a gold digger who cheated on Second Uncle with a rich man. That was, like, fifteen years ago. Recently, rich man’s finances began to sour, and now he’s pumping gas for minimum wage. Gold-Digging Aunt has been trying to get back with Second Uncle, who makes a comfortable living as an engineer, but that isn’t going to happen. In the meantime, grandma never misses an opportunity to carp about how spoiled Gold-Digging Aunt is, how she never worked a day in her life, how she has always gotten by on her looks, which, unfortunately, have started to fade. I remember Gold-Digging Aunt being a pretty good cook, however. She was probably a better cook than grandma. And yet, look at how fast Miranda is chomping down her food, so she can get this over with and get the hell back to Queens…!
Eldest Uncle’s ex-wife was also in attendance, though she sat as far away as possible from Eldest Uncle. I always heard these stories about them brandishing knives at each other, and I was kind of disappointed that that kind of thing didn’t happen when I had the chance to see it. Once dinner was over, Roy’s girlfriend Shannon brought out this giant ice cream cake she and Roy bought. We all admired it in its cardboard box. Then Second Uncle broke out a knife and started slicing it up.
It was a wonderful cake. Apparently, it had been Shannon’s idea to purchase it. Isn’t she a wonderful girlfriend, said Roy. Phil, he said. When are you going to get a girlfriend?
At some point in the ensuing conversation, my mom, who was visiting from Miami, piped in. She mentioned that she and my Third Aunt (wife of Third Uncle—they were both in attendance, but wisely stuck to eating, not talking.) ran into one of third aunt’s cousins. Supposedly, I had met her, though I cannot recall who she is. Anyway, this woman I don’t remember meeting mentioned she had a daughter about my age, and that the two of us should meet. To this, my mom replied, “Better not. Phil doesn’t have a job yet, and he only has an English degree.”
I heard about all of this for the first time that Thanksgiving Eve. Now, on the surface I was very nonchalant, stirring my port and sniffing my ice cream, something like that. But underneath, I couldn’t help thinking, “Jeez. My mom basically told this woman, ‘My son isn’t good enough for your daughter to meet.’” What kind of mother undercuts her own son like that? I hope this was all, like, reverse-psychology or something. Maybe this relative of my Third Aunt is lacking something, and my mom figured her daughter would carry the same defect. I can only assume that she was being cruel to be kind. Man, would I be depressed otherwise.
Well, my mom flew back to Miami, and Thanksgiving is long over. I think there’s still a couple of untouched pies sitting in the refrigerator. My mom left them there, so I assume she thinks I’m good enough for them. At least I’m good enough for SOMETHING.
