Givingthanks

A few unexpected blessings came our way this week for one of my favorite holidays.

My sister Jo Jo Golly came up to Swingstate from Crackerstate, something she has done several times in the last few years. Last year she dragged along her son, Bubba Golly Badly, who is around Jessi's and Zelda's age, and it was a lot of fun. He is a good sport, and it was fun to spend time with him, listen to music, talk politics, and hear his point of view. This year it was just Jo Jo, as Bubba spent the day with his girlfriend and her family in Atlanta, so we got to talk about him behind his back.

Zelda Golly came home from Northeast Swingstate University, of course, now careening anxiously down the homestretch toward the undergraduate finish line marked "B.A." Now that she has her own wheels, it's not as big a production to get her home for breaks and holidays, but it's still a big deal for her presence to be present in our presence. She and Jo Jo go way back, and Z takes after J in many ways. It's hilarious to walk into a room and see Zelda, Jo, and Gven sitting there talking and knitting furiously.

Equally strong is the vibe created by her brother Jessi Golly. A week ahead of time, we received word that he would be making the bus trip from New York, so we had a houseful. He rode in Wednesday morning on the Chinatown Bus, an independent budget busline that connects New York with several east coast cities, and now central Swingstate. Among other good news, Jessi is starting a new job this week at a comic book shop in the East Village called Forbidden Planet. We're relieved that he has a regular job and excited that it's doing something he's really interested in. He even brought a beautiful handwritten message to us from Alex, who was in Connecticut with her family.

So it was the five of us sitting at the table in the dining room of Om Shanty in Old Methodistville. Though it wasn't a very Methodist holiday. We linked hands and thanked the universe for being together. We listened to some old LPs of Phil Ochs and Peter, Paul and Mary that haven't lost their relevance in the 40 years since they came out. We ate turkey, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, dressing, asparagus, cranberries, pumpkin pie, and pecan pie. We drank a little rum and OJ, a little Cabernet Sauvignon and a lot of coffee. We sat by the fire, read a little, and talked about stuff.

Friday it was gorgeous outside, so we spent the afternoon at Inniswood, the gardens that were given to the county by the Innis family and made into a public park. Going there does what John Muir said about mountains: you find more than you're looking for. Saturday We walked around the backyard checking out the garden in November. Jo Jo is an experienced and knowledgeable gardener, so hanging out in the garden with her is like being in Baker Street with Holmes.

Jessi got in touch with his friends Andy and Andrew from high school, and they hung out at Andy's house, but not without great difficulty coordinating logistics with Zelda, who was meeting her friends Max and Jara from high school and hanging out at Ryan's house. It wasn't easy, and it never has been, but they worked it out. That was a recurring theme: my siblings aren't likely to stop doing the things that irritate me, and I'm not likely to stop being irritated by them. But we'll keep finding ways to put up with each other, and maybe learn how to act in ways that doesn't make it worse.

On that cheerful note, I'll just say that it was a great long weekend. Jo Jo went back to Atlanta Saturday afternoon, Zelda went back to Kent Sunday afternoon, and Jessi got on the Greyhound for the Big Apple at midnight Sunday. Leaving a post-Thanksgiving vacuum in their wake. Is this the post-holiday blues, or am I just getting a jump on the upcoming pre-holiday blues?

On melancholy

1 a: an abnormal state attributed to an excess of black bile and characterized by irascibility or depression... 2 b: causing or tending to cause sadness or depression of mind or spirit - Web10

Long story short, I'm for it. I join President Carter in doing my part to affirm our national malaise. I urge my fellow citizens to embrace their inner darkness, get to know their shadow, and enjoy a moment of personal gloom.

And why not? This is not a Disney movie, and we don't all live in a theme park called Happyland. Uh-oh, maybe I didn't get the memo. Is real life all about being cheerful 24/7? Okay, so we're not supposed to experience the ups and downs, and everybody is better off either ignoring or denying their reality. As the saying goes, I stand corrected.

Yesterday I was walking around the back yard - this is mainly what I do on weekends - picking apples off the ground, tossing some in the compost and putting some in a basket, pulling the odd weed, picking the last few peppers, beans, tomatoes. A faint tingle of sadness washed over me for no particular reason, and it occurred to me, okay, so this is fall. I happen to enjoy fall, but that doesn't mean I'm all buoyant and happy about it.

It's going to frost tonight, so I have to do something with the more tender potted plants. We'll need firewood soon. The furnace is already in use at night. I'll only have to mow a few more times until April. I already have some raking to do, and I'll wait until all the leaves are down before doing the serious pruning of trees. It's fall, nothing depressing about it.

Tell you what. I'll try not to drag anybody else down with me when I'm feeling down myself, okay? I won't insist that everyone around me see and acknowledge how dark thw world looks at the moment that it all looks hopelessly gloomy to me. And in return don't ask me to be happy, which is code for 'act happy when you're around me because I don't want to hear about it'.

Ravenna at night

Wood-Kortwright Funeral Home is on Main Street on the far side of downtown at the corner of Freedom Street. You go past Friend Construction, the Portage County Courthouse, and the bank; you can't miss it. I was driving up after work on Monday to join my wife and her mother, who were there to support Uncle Than and his family. Aunt Evelyn died last Thursday.

Than (for Nathaniel) and Evelyn Alexander had lived in Portage County forever, it seemed. They both grew up in Carroll County, Virginia, but they raised their kids here in Swingstate. I've been hearing about Wade and Kay since I joined the extended family 30 years ago, but this was my first time meeting them. Kay has worked at the Northeast Swingstate University library for a long time and has three sons. We got to meet them while standing in line beside Evelyn's casket.

Wade married Pam, who grew up right there in Ravenna, and both of them taught school in Ashland County, a little west of there, and now they have a Christmas tree farm called Alexander Family Tree Farm. They have two kids, a boy and a girl, around our kids' ages. Trevor just passed the bar exam and works at a law firm in Capital City; Lindsay teaches middle school math in North Carolina. Nice kids.

Wade was standing between Kay and Than in the receiving line, and it looked like they were successfully getting each other through the whole experience. A couple of hours of greeting well-wishers, standing next to the open casket, must take its toll on one's endurance and emotions, but they held up very well. Evelyn had been sick for some time, so everyone had plenty of time to prepare themselves, but still.

Part of the Alexander family mythology, retold at every reunion, is the fact that Gven was born on her cousin Wade's birthday, and one generation later our daughter Zelda was born on Wade's son Trevor's birthday. Whoa. Maybe that's why Wade was always Nancy's - Gven's mother's - favorite nephew. As an in-law and relative outsider, I enjoyed stepping into the story, watching the family interact and reminisce, seeing the connection they have with each other.

After a while I sat down next to Uncle Clayburn, whom I first met at his place in the mountains when Gven and I were courting. He's had some health problems, but he looked good. Gven sat one row in front of us with her mom and Aunt Gail, whose husband Bobby sat next to Clayburn. That worked out well, as Clayburn and Bobby had plenty of stories to tell, while Nancy and Gail chimed in regularly with their versions of the truth. These people are part of a big family, and they've known each other for along time.

The whole event, a very traditional small-town ritual, caused Gven and me to appreciate their way of doing things and wonder about what our way will be someday, when the time comes. Our way will be somewhat different, but we haven't made out a will or made any definite arrangements for executors and all that. Which we should, of course.

Speaking strictly for myself, I'm mostly in denial of the inevitable end, and if I had to make those decision today, I am in doubt about the way it should be handled. Gven thinks a party would be appropriate. Church funeral or not? Burial or cremation? Family plot - where, I don't know - ashes in an urn or scattered in a garden or forest somewhere? Plain pine box floating down the Mississippi or sinking to the bottom of Lake Superior? Would 'I' rather turn into compost or smoke?

So I had stuff to think about on the drive home to Capital City, while Gven and her mother stayed overnight for the funeral the next day.