Confessions of a Christmas hater

When Bill O'Reilly first started foaming at the mouth a few years ago about the so-called "war on Christmas," my first thought was, "Sweet! Where can I enlist?" I envisioned Jon Stewart and me wearing t-shirts that said "Soldier in the War on Christmas." One of the nice things about my Jewish phase is that I had a ready-made excuse not to go too crazy with the whole Christmas thing.

Christmas has almost always been tied up with disappointment for me. Not because I didn't get the toys I wanted as a kid, but because I could sense that my relatives, other than parents and siblings, were disappointed in me. And I think they still are, even though I served my country in the military for 8 years and will probably be the first person in my family to finish a graduate degree. They'll probably remain disappointed in me for as long as they live, even if I become a professor at a prestigious school or help with some research breakthrough in industry. Why? Because they have this very clear idea of what a woman should be and do, and I don't fit it. If you're wondering who would, Victoria Osteen would probably be a decent reference point (I was going to say Sarah Palin, but she's clearly more accomplished than her husband, and some of my relatives might consider that to be upstaging).

As a kid, it was clear that my behavior wasn't feminine enough for them. I was told I'd never catch a man the way I was, which, truth be told, was just fine with me. The idea of marriage or even long-term commitment seemed to be a kind of slavery (my stance on this has mellowed with age, at least in theory). But to them, my not catching a man was a terrible outcome. In fact, until I got married, some relatives asked my sister if I was a lesbian (I don't know if this idea has resurfaced since my divorce).

Fortunately, as an adult, I don't exactly lose sleep over this disfavor. In fact, I see who does have their favor, and I certainly don't wish to trade places with any of those people! But spending every holiday season in my formative years being confronted with my own perceived inadequacies is enough to make me annually consider booking a vacation over the holidays in a country that doesn't celebrate Christmas. If said country has a relatively clean beach, so much the better. ;-)

Disaster narrowly averted

I think I've mentioned before how religious my extended family is. Over the weekend, my grandmother was in the hospital awaiting surgery (it went well, and she's doing much better!). A bunch of us went to visit her, so it was almost like a family gathering. Normally at family gatherings, I just tune out the conversation and pretend to be fascinated by something on my phone, so despite the gulf between our opinions on things, we don't get into a lot of entanglements. But a hospital room provides much closer quarters, so I had to engage in more active lip-biting than I typically do.

During the afternoon, one of my aunts started singing the praises of Joel Osteen. Fine. Normally, this is where I start to tune out and find another conversation, but no such luck this time. Apparently, he had recently preached this sermon about how you should shout praises to God when you're feeling worried. Again, fine. I could see how that might have some psychological benefit. But what bothered me is how she kept talking about "the Christians" in Old Testament events like the battle of Jericho (Hint: there were no Christians in the Old Testament). It took all my self-restraint not to say, "Don't you mean the Jews?"

Later on, my stepmom wondered aloud why we have certain organs, even though we can live without them. This was relevant to the issue at hand, as Granny was having her gallbladder removed. Without even thinking about the implications of my statements, I rattled off the standard Biology 101 answer: "Well, these things were probably more useful at a previous stage in our development. I mean, look at the tailbone..."

We've never discussed the issue, but the look on my stepmom's face indicated I'd hit a nerve. Granny chimed in, "Well, nobody really knows about that stuff." I took that as my cue to bow out. It's things like this that make me think that even if it were a worthwhile goal to rid the world of religion (I'm not saying it is, or that it isn't), it would be impossible to achieve. We've still got flat-earthers, for dog's sake.

I did at least get in one positive point. We were discussing contentment and how important it was, and I said, "Every major religion teaches that in some form." That seemed to please everyone. Those who know me personally know how conflicted my relationship is with my extended family. Like all people, I'd prefer to get along with them. But it seems that to get along, I have to pretend to be someone I'm not.