The Hand You're Dealt

Originally Posted Thursday, November 28, 2013

Thanksgiving, and suddenly (like the stock market on a bad hair day) the numbers crash with temperatures in the 30s.  Clear skies and quiet streets, runners still coming by in the early dawn.  I go to my mother's today for the traditional meal.  We have eschewed the hillbilly holidays this year (though they could be coming at Christmas).  It will be afternoon mimosas and a good, clean dinner full of tryptophan and carbs.  I may watch a football game (my first of the year) though the commercials may drive me to put on a movie instead. 

But the tryptophan and champagne will give me peace. 

The hillbillies used to have large family Thanksgivings.  They still do.  I have done my own a few times, but I always find that tedious.  I feel trapped and strained.  The artifice of it all weighs me down. I like going to someone else's shindig O.K.  There are no expectations except that I tell good stories and eat.  The kids always like me, which is good for it keeps me from talking to the adults.  And I can disappear outside to look around.  And when it is over, after the appropriate amount of time, I can disappear completely. 

But when I think of all of you today, I see another thing.  You are gathered with family and/or friends.  It appears to me like a Kennedy gathering or a Steve Martin movie.  There are lawn darts and badminton or some indoor card or table game.  Everyone is witty and urbane.  The room sounds like a clever soundtrack.  I am envious. 

But today is a day for thanks giving, a time to play the cards we're dealt.  As an old professor of mine used to say (his life had gotten pretty fucked up although we all adored him and more), the next best thing to playing and winning is just being in the game.  I'm going to ante up. . . and I'll see you two bottles of Roederer and a pâté.  I may be bluffing.  Maybe I'm not. You in or are you out?  If you want to see what I'm holding. . . .