You Can Pick Your Nose, You Can Pick Your Family's Noses, But...

I know it's a stereotype that all family gatherings are fraught with tensions, secrets, annoyances, old grudges, and canned cranberry sauce. Most families get along just fine, whether they're faking it or not, and I know more people who have died of boredom at family events than have been speared with a fork by a pissed off cousin.

Not to say that my family doesn't have its moments. No bloodletting, per se, but perception is reality and it's hard to get a bunch of perceptions into one house for green bean casserole and pleasantries. It doesn't help that most of us are extremely verbose, and only have outdoor voices. Family gatherings amongst my people are a crapshoot-- they could go really really well, or someone could say one thing and start an argument that consists of two people shouting over each other. Did I mention no one is drinking at these events? We're naturally rambunctious. Then you consider my in-laws house, my second Christmas of the day, which by sheer virtue of being a big Italian family dinner has the potential to knock birds out the sky with the volume of it all. But everyone showed up, happy to see each other, relatively on-time, and enjoyed each other's presence. Not presents, although those were fine too (snowman votive holder, anyone?), but presence.

And that's the point. The women who had to organize my family Christmases (Aunt Debby and my Mom-in-law Dee) were hoping against hope that all of the family could make it, what with their spouses' families and their own children and their various and sundry obligations outside of the immediate relatives. But it worked. We came, we socialized, we hugged and laughed and told some of the same stories about each other that we always tell, and I was thrilled. I got to see my cousin-in-law's baby, my cousin and his new wife, my uncle the lawyer, and my grandparents, who I'm lucky to still have around. The feeling in my stomach after the day was done was one of contentment, not jittery angst or intense exasperation. That in and of itself is a Christmas miracle.

I love my families, and I hope you love yours. If you don't, make a new one.

Originally written 12.07