Friday, December 23, 2005

 

Holiday Home Havoc

The Christmas season is upon us all, and it goes without saying that not much has been posted here at BP during this, the craziest week of the year. Well, I can safely say that, unless I find something extra special to yank me away from the required family time that comes with the season, BR won't see much action until just before the new year.

That said, I thought I'd tell a bit of a story. Call me star-struck by the fact that he was in this one classic movie and on this one bitchin' TV show, but the fact of the matter remains thusly: Wil Wheaton gets talked about at BP because he's one of the most prolific bloggers on the Internet today. Yesterday's WWdN:IX post gives us a peek at an article Wil wrote for Salon, detailing the frontlines in the so-called "War on Christmas." Sadly, that front line is Wil's parents' house, and it shows us just how deep the divisions in our society have been carved by politicians and religious nuts.

"OK," I said, "I guess we'd better not talk about this."

But just then, my father walked into the room.

"Wil thinks Tookie Williams shouldn't be executed," she said.

Oh boy.

"What?" My dad said. Not to my sister, to me.

Here we go.

"Well," I said, "I don't believe in the death penalty, so..."

You know those optical illusion drawings, where you're looking at a smiling man, then suddenly he's become a werewolf? Faster than you could say "Fox News," my dad was screaming at me, Bill O'Reilly-style.

"... an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth! He killed four..." he stabbed at the air with four fingers on his left hand, "four people in cold blood and deserves! to! die!"

I briefly made eye contact with my stepson, Nolan, who sat just behind my father on my parents' couch. His face flushed and he quickly looked away. My sister had stopped her channel surfing on a shopping network, and he looked awfully interested in putting a sapphire ring on easy-pay. While my dad continued to scream about biblical vengeance, I went into shock. Just minutes earlier, we'd stood together outside on the deck and laughed with each other as he congratulated me for a great finish I'd had the previous day at a poker tournament in Las Vegas. In fact, I'd cut my trip short, specifically so I wouldn't miss the family Christmas.

What a difference five minutes makes.
Indeed. If you want to read the full article, all you have to do is watch a quick ad to get a limited free pass to Salon. It's worth it, if only because it illustrates the real problem in this country of ours, and how it's amplified by the Christmas season and the divides created by it's meaning. Because of the "Tookie" execution (or "Termination" if you want to use a sick pun), a family has become divided on an issue and drawn lines in the sand.

I've had a similar situation arise in my family, and I talked about it before in my old blog, Rancho Relaxo. Last year around Christmas time, I got a phone call from my Aunt Judy. She had asked me how I was doing, all the usual aunt-to-nephew conversation pieces. And then, for some reason, she asked me again, how was I doing?. That struck me as left-of-center, given the fact that she had asked me that exact question not 30 seconds before, to which I had provided a failry usual, yet complete, response. Why would she ask again if I had already told her?

"What do you mean by that?" I asked.

"Well, how are you doing with Jesus?"

It's no secret that I'm an Atheist, something of a secular humanist. I don't buy into Mother Goose omnipotent beings and dime-store ressurection tales that permiate pretty much every known mythos on the planet. When I was 13, I was told, I could make my own decisions since I would be an adult in the eyes of the church my parents attended. So on my confirmation day, I walked out of the church after the "ceremony" was finished (but not the service) and haven't been back since. After that, I've had to deal with Jesus freak family members left and right, and each one has had to learn that I just don't want to hear it.

Well, Aunt Judy doesn't seem to get that idea. She can't understand that, if you don't talk to Eric about God issues, then everyone gets along. She doesn't understand that if you continue and he politely asks you to stop, you should stop and change the subject. And she most certainly doesn't get it: If you spend 45 minutes on the phone trying to convince your nephew that he NEEDS Jesus in his life, that he is MORALLY WRONG in voting for someone other than "that good Christian man, George W. Bush," and that he HAS to pray for forgiveness in order for his life to turn around, you earn yourself a hearty "F**k off" and a very rude slam from the top rope down to the floor hang-up move.

Talk about ruining a holiday. I was looking forward to some good, quality time with my family (I wasn't yet sure how much I'd have at that time). They could go do their own church thing and I would sit here at home or go out with my friends. Noone would shame the other for doing either one. I'm a quiet Atheist most of the time (unless something provokes me, like the whole Intelligent Design thing), and don't chide people for their personal beliefs.

It's when you forcefeed them to me that I get cranky. Aunt Judy did just that.

Then it got even better! This past November, we had a reception here in Houtzdale for my baby brother CJ, who got married the month before in California, and guess who showed up. Not only the dreaded "Judy the Jesus Freak," but her equally God-fearing daughter Julie was there as well. Wonderful, given that I was about to show the family I had in attendance that the black sheep had some talent in him by singing "Angel Eyes" for my brother and new sister-in-law. Afterwards, almost like clockwork, my cousin pulled me off to one side, sat me down, and attempted to do the thing you should just not do.

What strikes me as insulting is the fact that she knew damn well what response she'd get. Her mother had obviously told her about the conversation we'd had the previous year, and I'm sure she'd heard about the hang-up move (which I was later awarded a title shot for, ha ha). Yet she still made the attempt. Now, telling someone off on the phone and telling someone off in a banquet hall filled with your family and very close friends (including some big names I won't mention) are two very different situations that require very different approaches. Thankfully, my anger didn't get the better of me, and I chose the appropriate tell-off method:

"Look, Julie. I'll be fine. Now, I've gotta go talk to Justin about some work he wants me to do after the party. Thanks for your concern, though." With that, I stood up, walked away, and promptly made my way to Justin's upstairs office where I proceeded to scream my head off in the storage room.

Why do these issues have to divide families like they have? Why has War, the Death Penalty, and even Religion driven such huge wedges between people who are supposed to unconditionally love each other? Why do they cause chaos, even in what's supposed to be a festive atmosphere? We've allowed ourselves to become polarized to the point where we're adhereing to our political and religious ideals with more of a death grip than we are to the bonds that make us relatives. Whether these mini-battles in the larger (and more idiotic) war last only a few minutes or even years, why do they need to happen at all?

George W. Bush likes to think that he united a country. It's stories like these - the personal stories of everyday people, whether they've been on TV or they're just some random guy with a blog and a big mouth - that make me think he's more like his predicessor, Ronald Reagan. Both men divided this country like never before.

And the dividing lines are being drawn in a very, very bad place: your family's living room...

Here's hoping that your Holiday Family Time doesn't end up like ours. Wishing you a Merry Christmas, Chanukkah, Kwanzaa, whatever it is you celebrate: Just have fun, be safe, and enjoy the season!

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