Blackhumouristpress's Blog

December 12, 2010

O Sole Mio: A Christmas Card

Filed under: Uncategorized — blackhumouristpress @ 5:41 pm
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            Hello again family and friends.  Every year during the Christmas season, I write a little essay telling you all how things have been for Todd, the kids and I over the past year.  This year upon thinking about all that is not right, I decided to let you all know exactly how things really are rather than just gush about the good things.

            In the past, I would tell you that Todd received a promotion and his company just couldn’t function without him.  I would usually go on to tell you what great places we’ve been in the past year and how well balanced the kids are in our suburban nirvana nestled in between hundreds of other tract homes in a part of the country that I would never had considered living in had Todd’s company not moved us here…  Back before he became expendable.

Todd lost his job some eight months ago now when his great American enterprise moved operations to India.  Some prosperous young man in India now has his job and he and his wife are now helping to build a middle class in a society of great disparity much like ours is becoming.  I know that sounds angry and it should.  My two vacations each year, has dropped to none.  I am trapped in my pre-fabricated clone home in the middle of Stepford with my knight-in-shining-armor who now sleeps until 11am while I get the kids off to school after their meager portions of government cheese and a hard boiled egg paid for by government relief or unemployment benefits.  I then run errands only to return to find that my unemployed viscount has now fancied himself a chef and has taken to watching cooking shows all day long on the cable that we can no longer afford either.

       Last week, I mistakenly purchased one too many cans of kidney beans which prompted Todd to spread our trash on the front driveway to find a receipt for an 89 cent can of beans that will probably out live me as long as it remains in its sarcophagus.  Todd saved 89 cents but went on a shopping spree with money we no longer have at Crate and Barrel.  $242.63 if you minus the money he saved on a can of beans that he will no doubt need next week and I have been asked to for go my sixty two dollar a month gym membership, make my own coffee as well as Todd’s but yet he can parade around the house in his high society top hat, making the world’s finest chili with the world’s finest cookware made in China or India undoubtedly.  This is after the children are at school and I’m looking on line trying to help my beau become part of the 90% of the nation that does have employment.  I look at that damn 2008 Obama/Biden sticker that is magnetized to my empty refrigerator and tell myself; Yes We Can… Find a job.

            Yes we can also tell everyone exactly how it is in a Christmas card without any smoke and no mirrors.  Unemployed but yet under golfed.  Our change of life has not hit the stash of single malt liquor and cigars or daily fees for golf.  I cannot fault my man for his Don Quixote view of our future.  His mother whom I know will get this same blanket seasons greetings as the rest of you, has enabled her son to be mediocre while believing he is superior.  Momma always told sonny Jim that he was special and he should be to her the way my two male spawn are special to me albeit that they nearly killed me the way a baby Kiwi tries to kill its own mother during the birthing process.  Having twins is cruel to humans.

  It is truly impossible to be objective and I hope I don’t enable my little men to be oblivious, helpless, useless, over critical slobs who are unaware of reality.  I know I won’t let them play golf.  It really is a good walk spoiled as Mark Twain once said.

            But getting back to my dear mother-in-law who criticizes my cooking, my cleaning, my childrearing, my taste in furnishing, the color of my hair and so on.  I so wish that your son could have found a precious woman like you so that he could truly see what it would have been like to have lived a tortured life.  Your poor husband, rest his soul, served dutifully for his country and then silently for his family.  Hen pecked would not begin to describe the reality that was his.  You dear mother of my husband, will get a chance to make the spread you claim you once made each year previous to me.  I will be spending my Christmas in Hawaii with my sister who is equally disenchanted with matrimony.  We will be sipping tropical drinks and listening to the gentle whine of slide guitars at a pig roast somewhere near the sea.  It won’t feel like Christmas and that will be fine.  I usually have to brace myself for Thanksgiving and keep my hands firmly on the wheel until Christmas before I can exhale only to see family again at Easter.  Not this year.

            There are those of you who will conclude that I have watched too much Oprah, or am going through the change of life or like many women in their forties, or have become bi-polar instantly as if a switch were flipped and a flood of unbridled chemicals have suddenly broke my inner damn and raised havoc on my ability to reason.  Quite the contraire.  Unlike olden times when reformed women could be beaten with a stick the same circumference of a male thumb, stoned to death or burned as a heretic, the worst that could happen to me is a divorce and that may not be the worst thing if my groom does not come to grips with the fact that the boat moves by me rowing it o sole mio.

            I will be back from Hawaii two days after the New Year and so here is my resolution; if I am not invited to dinner occasionally, I will take myself to dinner.  If I wash clothes, dishes and floors, somebody better become Chef Boyardee in a hurry and understand that the maid does not cook, the cook cooks and if you want me to do my best cooking, which is in the bedroom, somebody better put me in the mood now and then because it is not obligatory any longer to have relations with one’s spouse. 

            My two boys are going to learn to read and exercise.  I will be donating our televisions to those less fortunate.  If the man of the house wishes to watch television, he will need to bring his television and all his other supplies to his bomb shelter in the basement.  My boys are developing man breasts, a pear shape and are well on their way to forming the classic American, middle aged, middle class, sedentary physique due to processed fast-food and a virtual world via Xbox.  My boys will learn what it was like for my father to push a hoop with a stick for amusement, run, ride a real bicycle and occasionally read.  Their father can now make them real food that will not give them heart disease by the age of sixteen now that he has become a cuisine wizard.  Then my boys can read about Melville’s Whale or Hemingway’s shark and try to draw an image based on something they are reading instead of hours of mindless viewing. A mind is a terrible thing to waste and a waist is a terrible thing to not mind.

            So in conclusion, I truly wish you all a happy holiday season.  If you are happy, I am happy for you.  If you send a sanitized blanket Christmas card each year, consider being truthful about how you feel for it is quite liberating.  I hope you all keep in mind the reason we celebrate things like Christmas.  Most of us are Christians the way we are Scorpios or Irish; it is something that we claim to be but really do not do as Jesus would do for the most part.  I’m in the same boat as you all and taking that boat to Hawaii.  Happy holidays to you all and may the New Year be everything the last year was not.  Aloha.

With sincerity unmatched,


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