This week we will reach the mid-point of January; another holiday season has come and gone. For me and for many the holidays are a bittersweet time, and I have hesitated to write about the feelings that came with the holiday season. Now that I am safely into January with my nose back to the grindstone perhaps I can risk looking back and reflecting a bit. I must say it is usually much easier to opine or vent about politics or current events; those are less personal and less threatening, less vulnerable.
For a number of years now we have hosted Thanksgiving at our house. By “we” I refer of course to my wife and daughter. My wife is a great cook and my daughter is a great organizer and they do a wonderful job. This year we had about 25 people for Thanksgiving dinner, family and extended family and friends. The food was wonderful and the conversation was lively. We played games and looked at old photos and listened to music and had a grand old time.
My family grew up in Ellisville, on a little street called Marsh Avenue, in a house that backed up to the elementary school. I have written before about that experience, which was awesome. We had lots of kids in the neighborhood, and by kids I meant boys. They seemed to come in twos, The Rakestraws and Jetts and Ferrees and Carys and Sontags and Westons and Parmenters and Parsons and on and on and on. Then one day the Jetts, who lived next to us, went and had a girl, Lori. And then there were more boys and then my sister Sharon and then we all moved on to other things and lived our lives.
I remember one time we got ambitious and turned our back yards into a football field. We had always played football there but this time we striped it with real white lines and made it official. For some reason that I cannot fathom my Dad and Mr. Jett did not object and the backyard football games got a little more official. We had the school yard for baseball games and at one point Scott Ferree set up a golf course there one summer.
Dad and Mr. Jett are both gone now but this Thanksgiving we had Mrs. Jett (ok, her name is Mary but old habits die hard) and Lori and her husband Jeff over for Thanksgiving dinner. Mary and Mom were best of friends for many years and it was great to see them together again. Mary Jett is now 80 and sharp as a tack. She is in good health and still drives and gets around just fine. We discussed old times and current events and how things are back in Ellisville, where she still lives (although not on the same street where we grew up). It was great catching up with Lori and Jeff as well.
As usual we had all of my siblings and their spouses and kids (those who could make it) and we love having my sister-in-law Mary’s parents as well. Dave and Vicky are great guests and we have some fine conversations. My wife’s mother and sister represent the Ament side and Mary Jo always has an opinion to offer as well.
But I mentioned it was bittersweet. First, of course, we are reminded of those who are not there. My father and father-in-law and Mr. Jett have all passed on and their absence is keenly felt. All three were characters, with stories and opinions and personalities that sometimes seemed bigger than life. I was reminded of all of the past Thanksgivings either here or in Ellisville where these patriarchs would play games or watch football or regale us with stories. I remember their laughter and how full of life they were.
The other, more immediately bittersweet part involves my mother. As you know Mom is now in an assisted living facility and although her health is good her memory is not what it once was. My sister confided to me that on the way over to our house for Thanksgiving Mom could not remember ever having been to our house before. She has, of course, been here many times. I know it is just a synapse problem in her brain, but she could not participate much in the dinner table conversation. She simply cannot come up with the words.
Everyone understands, of course. Mom knows who we are and where she is, but sometimes she “forgets”. She smiles at us and we can feel the love and she knows we love her too, but there are a lot of meaningful looks exchanged all around; there is not a lot of need for discussion, we all understand that sometimes older people start losing their memories and at this point at least there is not a whole lot we can do but make her feel safe and let her know we love her.
As Christmas approached Mom grew more concerned about making sure she bought Christmas gifts for everyone. Obviously nobody was expecting her to get out and get gifts but she was really worried. I made a date with her and took her over to Chesterfield Mall to go shopping. Since we were in the area, she wanted to go see the house on Marsh where we grew up. We knew that the house had burned down a few years back, but we wanted to see the new one and visit the old neighborhood.
Before we got to Marsh Avenue we decided to stop by a few other “landmarks”. My old Lafayette High School has for many years now been a Junior High. We stopped by and drove around it, noting a number of changes. Right next door is the Ellisville Methodist Church where the family attended services like clockwork for many years. I had not been there for some time and they have expanded quite a bit as well. Next stop was Ellisville Elementary, where I went to grade school, and where Mom worked in the latchkey program for many years. There were a number of changes there too.
As we drove down Marsh Avenue we both knew where the old house was “supposed” to be, which was now replaced with a big new two story house. The Jetts’ old house is still there, and the lot still borders the schoolyard, but they have built a fence to separate the two. The football field now has a fence at the 50 yard line. We got out and took pictures and wondered if the new neighbors were worried or thought we were crazy. We laughed and marveled at all of the change. You can’t go back; you can go back and visit, but it is not the same and your memories are nothing more than old threads floating around those synapses.
We went shopping at the Mall, and Mom was thrilled by the train and the Merry Go Round and the kids jumping on bungee cords off of trampolines. It was Christmas and there was a bustle of activity and lots of excitement. Mom bought a few things for the grandkids and we got a bite to eat in the food court. She asked me a few times where we were. She made it all the way up and down the mall but that was plenty. We made the long trip back to Washington and when she got back to her place there was obvious relief at the familiarity and security of being “home”.
My son flew in on Christmas Eve after missing his plane and we spent that evening with my wife’s Mom and Sister before attending Midnight Mass at Immaculate Conception. The kids “grew up” in that church, went to PSR and Scout meetings there. Father Bob moved on and Monsignor Ted has been Pastor for some time now. We celebrated with the Rakestraws a few days later out at a hotel in Washington, where we played games and opened gifts and looked at more pictures and caught up with everyone once again. My eldest niece, my Mom’s first grandchild, is now pregnant with her third child. The kids played and swam and made videos. Their laughter is the replacement for those that we have lost, another reminder that life moves on.
On New Year’s Eve I went to dinner with my wife and daughter and mother-in-law and sister-in-law. We had a great time but ended it early and came home to watch the ball drop in New York City at 11. I noted there is still a New Year’s Rockin’ Eve even without Dick Clark. On New Year’s Day I had dinner at The Trainwreck with my dear old friends, as is my custom. In years past there were always a number of kids in attendance but this year it was just us. The kids are all older, and although there are still several of them living at home that will not be the case for much longer.
I realize that January, with its cold weather and return to the reality of work naturally leads to a bit of melancholy. I have filled out my shiny new 2015 calendar and my nose is back to the grindstone. There have already been some exciting occasions, like the Bluegrass Festival in Eureka and the Inaugural Ball in Jefferson City. Both were great fun and a wonderful start to the New Year. These will someday be the great times I will look back at and remember fondly. But I am keenly aware of the inevitable change going on, and along with the good comes the bad.
The holidays always bring good times and laughter and gifts and games and conversation. They also bring stress and tension and frustration and sadness. It has always been this way; this is nothing new. In the end, however, all we will remember is the good food and good people and laughter and the games and the stories. We will remember the football fields we made and the videos we shot with our cousins. The bitter tends to fade, leaving behind memories that are simply sweet and happy.
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