The Nerve to Tell the Truth

So it’s that time of the year. Already, my sister has called and informed me what we are having on Thanksgiving and giving me ideas what to bring and frankly I didn’t have the guts to tell her that I am not coming. I’m not. I just can’t do these family things any longer. I have pretty much severed the ties with my three sisters who live in one town, but the sister who raised me, well, it’s harder and she is like a mother to me. But they are so fundamentally Christian and staunch republicans and racists and homophobes and war mongers that I hate being around them. For instance, my sister’s husband, Mr. Know It All, well, he tries to bait the educated fool that would be me. You see, while I am in my last year of earning my masters, I am the most educated in our family, of all our family, including in laws, cousins, and everything in between. Of my siblings, besides me, only my sister who raised me, Mother Hen, has even graduated high school, so they see me as an educated fool, thus the baiting.

Most of the day is spent, prior to forcing too greasy of food down my throat, smiling when the women, including me, prepare, serve, and wait on the men to finish eating before we actually sit down. The men retire to the living room, while we clean up the mess and keep running around officering pie to the adults and chasing after the kids, who are hyper from so much sugar. They watch ball games and discuss politics and religion and I just want to say, no that is not what the Bible says and I used to say that and then they would drag out the Bible and I would prove my point and they would say that I was taking it out of context and I would say, no, I’m not.

The conversations, of the last couple of years, revolve around liberal fools, illegal aliens, and why not just drop a bomb on the Middle East. I look at them all and just want to scream but I am always too doped up to do anything but count the minutes that are required after eating before I can leave, according to Ms. Manners.

This year, I am cooking a nice turkey and making dressing and maybe sweet potatoes and probably long green beans and asparagus. I will make one pie, maybe a cake and invite friends over. This year, I am calling Mother Hen and telling her that I am just not able to come down, that I think it is time for me to have my own traditions begin. And those traditions are going to include, my immediate family and my friends. I just hope I don’t chicken out and tell her I am sick. That is my usual get-out-of-family-free-card.