Holiday Weekend Wrap Up

San feigns interest in the lights
Click on image for a larger view.

Four days off in a row and now it’s back to the same old, same old. That’s the longest period of time off from work I have had all year and the majority of the time off was time well spent. The remaining portion was spent in the presence of my father and need I say more? Not really, but I will… later in this entry. Thanksgiving Day itself was spent with part of my family at my parent’s Carroll County home.

My brother Thomass and his family weren’t present because his wife recently had surgery and can not be in a motor vehicle for the next couple of weeks. Richard, Chellie and my wonderful nieces and nephew were there as was my grandfather (mom’s side) and a favorite aunt and uncle. It was a surprisingly pleasant, yet slightly strained time. There was a slight chill in the air despite my best efforts to warm things up. My father tried several times to start minor incidents, but none of us would participate in his lame ass games. Basically he was coming down pretty hard on Richard, Uncle John and I for being Baltimore Raven’s fans. Seems that a winning season is not good enough for my Dad. In all honesty it has nothing to do with football and everything to do with dad just trying to start arguments. He’s a conflict/argument junkie. He needs it to live like an addict needs their heroin. It’s a simple equation really. If I like something my father will automatically hate and deride it, even if it’s something he honestly likes (like the Baltimore Ravens). That’s the heart of the relationship between my father and I, and it’s been like that since my early teens. When I get to Sunday you’ll see football enter the equation again. Anyway, it was a pleasant time and we did stop by to see Tom, Lisa and the kids (okay… really we just went to see the kids). On Friday we slept in late and then spent the afternoon decorating the house for Christmas. Surprisingly I didn’t have the annual fight with the lights that I have had in years past. There was one brief moment when I got the last strand on the tree that it didn’t light, but a systematic check of the lights revealed a loose bulb. Once tightened all was well. Poe and San feigned interest in the lights and ornaments as if it were obligatory for them to do so. "Oh look shiney things, lets bat at them and get shooed off". they sniffed around a bit, lazily batted at a few lights that we had layed on the floor for testing, and then off they ran to catch up on their daily seventeen hours of sleep. Jenne gave me an awesome series of Simpsons ornaments as an early Christmas gift.

Slippity D'OH Da!

There are six scene ornaments for the tree, and a table top series of ornaments that create a Simpsons train. Yes, I said a train. Jenne was really worried that I wouldn’t like it because of the train motif, but I love it. Looks like a Simpsons Christmas for me this year and that’s always a good thing.

The Simpsons Express

Saturday I volunteered at Antietam during the day and spent the evening on the couch with Jenne watching TV. Sunday we were off to my nephew Kevin’s 5th birthday party. Kevin is my brother Richard’s boy. Rich and I get along. We don’t have much in common, but at least we do get along okay. Everything was great until dad showed up. Recall that I mentioned Raven’s football earlier. Well dad was wearing his Baltimore Ravens shirt, hat and suspenders. Instead of being a smart-ass and giving dad a bunch of shit about his T-Day anti-Ravens rant (hence playing into his trap) I told him I was glad to see he had a change of heart about the team and that he’d be cheering with us. I could tell he was not thrilled about my positive attitude, but he didn’t say anything. All was going well until we sat down to eat and then a confrontation started over something incredibly silly. It's always something silly. My niece, Ashton (Thomass’ daughter) was sitting on his knee and he said, “this here is my adopted granddaughter.” I looked over at him and quizzically replied, “adopted? Umm Ashton is not adopted. I don’t get it.”
“Yeah she’s adopted. Tom and Lisa adopted her from a poor black family, so I adopted her as my grandaughter.” He laughs.
I should have just kept eating and not played into this, but that wouldn’t off worked either. When he starts stuff like this it’s because he’s looking for a scene. Remember that he’s a junkie. At this point I’m trapped. Saying nothing will set him off. Saying something will set him off. Getting up and walking away will set him off. It’s a Kobayashi Maru and I’m in the middle of it. Shields up! Phasers and torpedos armed. Brace for impact!
“Dad, what are you talking about? I don’t get it.”
“Of course you don’t get it. It’s a joke and you’re not in on it.”
“You want to explain it to me?”
“You wouldn’t get it.”
“You’re probably right. Best not to explain the stupid joke.”
“FUCK YOU you little shit. It’s not stupid. You’re stupid,” he bellows with seven year old Ashton on his knee.
I take my plate of food in my hands and get up.
“Where are you going?” he barks.
I fire the phasers. “Downstairs with the kids. I’m going to eat with the mature children.” A hit. He’s stunned for a moment and I flee the scene. Unfortunately there are others at the table who will now suffer as he rants. Five minutes later my mom comes into the basement and sits next to me. She says to me, “your father is who and what he is and he’s not going to change. You have to accept it. Everyone has to accept it.” She walks away. I can and do accept that he is a hedonistic sexist racist bitter asshole, but what I no longer accept is his nasty and abusive behavior towards me. I am almost thirty-nine and enough is enough. I will no longer be cussed at by him, called names by him or threatened with bodily harm by him. About ten minutes latter Jenne (who did not witness the above) comes down into the basement where I am having a civilized meal with a group of children aged two through eight. We are having the best time and there is lots of laughter and smiles. The kids tell me that I am the best uncle, that I'm funny, and that they love that I will play with them. Jenne pulls me aside for a moment and tells me that my dad has been ranting for ten minutes that he’s going to slap some little bastard in the face and kick his ass. My mom says he’ll end up in jail and he’s saying that he doesn’t care and that, “that little shit head needs his face slapped and his ass kicked.”
"Will, do you know who he’s talking about?"
“Sure do, honey. He’s talking about me.” I fill her in. The rest of the afternoon Jenne and I avoid the dinning room where my father stays seated at the head of the table playing the marter and holding court. Jenne and I have a good time in spite of him. We play with the kids, talk with the good relatives and make the best of it. When we leave we say goodbye to everyone, but my parents. We are done with them. It’s over. So far there’s been no backlash, but I give it a few days. We’ll get a call or an email and some where it will mention the incident and how hurt and upset dad is. It will also mention getting together for Christmas at their house, which will not be happening this year, or ever again. I am not going to hang out with people who don’t like me and who abuse me every chance they get. It IS over. On the way home we stopped in at Boscovs at the Westminster Town Center Mall. Our friend Lynn works there so we figure that we’ll stop by and surprise her. We do and she is. The store is pretty quiet and Jenne and Lynn spend a great deal of time talking about dinnerware and fine china. Jenne sees her favorite pattern of holiday dinnerware on sale at 50% off. We say goodbye to Lynn after a nice visit and leave the store with new place settings for four. We get home in time for me to catch the new episode of The Simpsons, which I found to be very extremely funny. We wrap up the evening with some reading. I’m finishing a book on Antietam and Jenne is continuing her studies. Finals are in two weeks and neither she, nor I can wait. A sound night’s sleep, some odd dreams and back to the same old, same old.