trying to try harder

Diary of a Sadman: Installment 2, 12/29/03
by Patrick Okell


I just returned from Columbus, Ohio where I spent my first Christmas with my new in-laws. I can't believe I even have in-laws. They're lovely people and went to a great deal of trouble (and expense) to put together a really nice holiday.

We arrived a few days before Christmas. The decorating and setting up of lights, trees, wreaths etc. had pretty much been wrapped up prior to our getting there. In fact the place looked amazing. So I settled into eating a ton of cookies and watching a fair bit of TV. I also made sure to impress them with my ability to sleep in until eleven or noon. I attempted to chalk this up to jet lag, but my wife, Anna, kindly pointed out to them that I routinely do the same at home in the Pacific time zone.

Christmas morning arrived cold and crisp with a Hallmark card dusting of snow on the ground. I did my best to haul my ass out of bed before nine so as not to delay breakfast, gift opening etc., and annoy everyone. The presents were truly amazing. Not only did I get numerous gifts from my in-laws, but I also got gifts from their dog and cat and Santa. Christ, I haven't had a gift from Santa since . . well, a long time ago. I swore off ever spending Christmas with my own family again when I saw the same wool Burberry scarf my mother had said was far too expensive to get me neatly folded under my in-laws' tree. That was only the beginning though. There was a Burberry tie, a cashmere sweater, pajamas, books, a Lord of the Rings trivia game, another sweater, a spaetzl maker and some sort of survival light thing that has a lantern, a TV and bunch of other things on it. I felt sort of small as they each unwrapped the paperback book I had bought for them.

Anna's sister even got me a nice hard cover book, which she had cleverly deduced I would probably like (and had not read) a few days earlier. I had foreseen this possibility and asked Anna repeatedly if I should get something for her sister. She assured me just as repeatedly that I needn't worry. Her sister was, after all, a first year teacher with not a lot of disposable income and probably wouldn't be buying me a present. In any case, Anna had bought a bookmark for her that I could say was from me. She told me her sister liked bookmarks and that this was nice one. The beauty of this plan was that Anna had already wrapped it. That sealed it. I accepted her assurances and agreed to give her sister the bookmark. After all, I didn't want to instigate senseless present escalation and or make her sister feel bad for not getting me anything.

I squinted at the now unwrapped bookmark for the first time as Anna's sister was thanking me for it. It wasn't quite as nice as I had imagined. In fact it looked pretty cheap and it was shaped like a heart. I think it was fairly obvious to all (at least I hope it was) that I hadn't picked it out or probably even seen it before it was wrapped. I felt like a complete tool. It's the thoughtlessness that counts. The really good news is Anna sent an identical heart shaped bookmark to her other sister in Denver also from me.

After I had finished unwrapping my presents we all headed up to the kitchen for a nice big breakfast that someone (someone who didn't sleep in until 9:30) had obviously spent a lot of time preparing. Post breakfast there wasn't really much time to do anything other than shove my pile of loot back under the tree and get ready for the arrival of the first wave of relatives. I showered, shaved and put on some nice clothes. Somehow I only had light gray socks which looked sort of ridiculous with my darker-than-I-remembered green pants. I debated on wearing my shoes to cover them up, but decided the potential damage to the pristine cream colored carpet of the living room outweighed the saving of fashion face. I still think it was the right move.

Before I knew it — in fact before I was finished shaving — the first aunt and uncle arrived from Cincinnati. Unlike all my aunts and uncles, Anna's are habitually early. The rest of the relatives arrived shortly after. They were all very nice and didn't seem as overtly crazy as so many of my relatives do. There were more gifts from very friendly aunts and extremely tall and handsome cousins whom I had never met and whom I had somehow not fully realized were now part of my extended family and to whom I had nothing to give in return. There was thankfully little inquiry into what exactly I did for employment, which led me to believe that the topic may have been covered in an advance briefing.

We commenced to eating turkey and ham and a bunch of other great food. Over eggnog and rum I made dismal attempts to converse with the cousins about sports. After telling them, that yes I was a Seahawks fan they probably found it curious that I didn't know what their record was and was unaware that there was indeed some chance of them making the playoffs this year.

Finally, after they had finished eating and presented Anna and I with belated wedding gifts and urged me to come and visit them sometime, the relatives all trooped out the door and took off.

It was finally time to relax - even for me who had literally done nothing but open presents and fill my face with food prepared by others all day. We all headed to the kitchen where Anna, her mother and her sister did dishes while her father and I sat at the kitchen table and ate fudge and drank cans of Budweiser. Naturally the conversation turned to the just-departed relatives. There was some talk of cousin Frank who had disappeared into the basement rumpus room where he had assumedly taken a nap on the couch for about four and a half hours. This behavior was pretty much universally condemned though apparently not unprecedented. According to Anna, Frank did this or some version of this every year. She was not impressed.

"Frank needs to grow up and get over himself," Anna said, not really hiding her annoyance as she scraped green bean casserole from a plate.

"He's got some problems," her mother assured her.

"I know he's got some problems. He does this every year. He needs to get some therapy or something." Anna is a great believer in therapy.

"Well, I think he's depressed. I think he might be clinically depressed. He's always had problems you know," said Anna's mother.

"He definitely has some problems. I don't think he has a job. I think he's under a lot of pressure," said my new father-in-law from his chair, weighing in on the debate over cousin Frank's ailment.

"Well, Pat doesn't have a job. And he's not skulking off to the basement," Anna, my wife, said finally.

I stopped putting fudge in my mouth and took a sip of beer as all eyes turned to me. That's right, I was right there at the kitchen table mixing it up with my new family and eating fudge. And I continued to sit there, feeling somewhat diminished, suddenly longing for the cool quiet of the basement.