Turkey business

Last night at six o’clock it started snowing. At three it was still snowing. At nine it just stopped snowing. I wish you a “whiter” Christmas and a “stu eff’d turkey”.

Quite frankly? I am not really into Christmas. I think that somewhere along the road I forgot how to like it. And so I tried to avoid the rat race towards the biggest tree and the biggest present and yet another stuffed turkey. I think it really must have been the turkey who is at fault. While living in California as of Thanksgiving up till Christmas, life around us seemed to be reduced to turkey business only. We were invited by friends at Thanksgiving. Turkey. We were invited by other friends at Christmas. Turkey. And those who did not invite us on these days either offered us their leftovers or invited us later on to polish off the last bits. Each time I was grateful to God that every single cook used a different stuffing. On my turn I became quite resourceful inventing dish after dish until I had no imagination whatsoever left and secretly dumped the last bits in the waste bin. Before I left to the States, I never knew that turkey was a huge tradition elsewhere. After coming back to Europe however, I had to discover that the bird too had found its way across the ocean. No wonder that I just went cold turkey.

But it is not only because of the turkey that I am not keen on Christmas anymore. I just miss the way Christmas used to be when my grandfather was still alive. How we would gather at his house with all the children and grandchildren. How we would sometimes sleep with a whole bunch of children in one bed. In a room with no heating and believe me, it was cold in that room. Ice flowers greeted us every morning and even the old fashioned ewers that were left behind in order to refresh oneself in the morning would be covered with a thin layer of ice. Grandfather had a real Christmas tree. With real candles. O yes, sometimes the tree would catch fire but there was always a bucket of water close by and a vigilant eye to prevent more damage than a few burned branches. An there was snow in those years. Tons and tons of snow. Even more snow than what was left behind this year. I still long for these days when I was child and innocent enough to be enchanted with all the glitter around me.

But one gets older and the older one gets, the more one realizes that all this glitter is not always that nice looking as could be thought at first sight. Christmas forces people to be nice at moments where one does not want to be nice at all. Politeness expects us to whish the best to all, even to those from who one knows that they never earned their best wishes at all. And so, this morning my thoughts were not at all with those who are close to me, with those I love, with those I cherish. They have a good life even if at some moments they might think that they do not.

This morning I realized that one of my dreams came through. I wished for a white Christmas and I got my white Christmas. But at the same time my thoughts went out to all these people who have no homes, who will have to spent this ‘joyful’ day on the streets, hoping for a warm blanket, something to eat. And for once I wished I were rich because if I were I would have bought some huge but really huge fat stuffed turkeys and brought them a feast.

Yes, I wish you a “whiter” Christmas and a “stu eff’d turkey”.