Thoughts from the Managing Editor

Having ventured out West from New Orleans with everything I owned in a U-Haul in the ’90s, I now surely enjoy the multitude of sunny, clear days in So Cal. Bike rides through the palm-tree-lined streets of my neighborhood of Bixby Knolls, jogs along the bike path on the beach and hikes through Signal Hill not only help me stay fit physically, they provide me with fantastic views, comfort in living in a (relatively) safe place and melatonin to keep me happy.

But I often yearn for that stormy weather we’d get down South in Louisiana and Mississippi. When I was a kid, at the first sign of precipitation, my mom would turn off all the lights, open all the windows and task one of us kids with finding “a good scary movie” on TV. My sisters, Mom and I would lounge around the living room, listen to the pitter-patter hitting the roof and get cozy with the black-and-white sci-fi creatures on the boob tube.

I relished those times, and there was something nurturing about them. Sometimes, when the California skies are bright and cloudless, I pine for those wet and hazy afternoons, especially since Mom is now only with us in spirit.

That’s why, when the L.A. meteorologists begin their weather reports with phrases like, “Bad news— we’ve got some rain on the way,” I get annoyed and bewildered. Bad news?! Don’t they see the relaxing, even meditative, qualities of rainfall like I do? Can’t they see how it’s soothing to the soul? (Not to mention a great excuse to be lazy and grab a cozy mug of something hot, a good read or the remote control.) This rain-hating attitude so many Southern Californians harbor is a sentiment I have such a hard time relating to that it even makes me a bit grouchy.

Whereas that particular emotional disconnect of mine is on the regional level, another viewpoint I have a difficult time comprehending seems to be one that is pervasive across the country— the dread of being with family during the holidays.

We see it in countless films and on numerous TV shows. It’s even in commercials— “Hate your relatives? We understand! Hide in the bathroom with a box of these cookies, and everything will be okay.”

However, unlike the rainy-weather loathing that makes me grumpy, this seemingly ubiquitous dislike of going “home” for the holidays initially makes me feel sorrow for all those kin-despising folks. How sad that there’s no sense of nostalgia, no desire to reconnect, no need for some cuddly hugs from sisters, no yearning for reminiscing, no longing to hear Grandpa’s war stories or Grandma’s tales of surviving the Depression.

Then, of course, my sympathy transforms into gratitude. I’m among the lucky ones who actually love (and even like!) their family members. Since we all live in different states, hundreds of miles away from each other, it’s fulfilling to see my nieces and nephews becoming smart, compassionate and ambitious young people. It’s humbling to listen to Maw-Maw (that’s what we call our grandmother) share with us how she and her parents, brother and sisters so appreciated being able to have a Sunday meal that actually had some meat in it… or even the rare slice of a juicy apple. It’s comforting to hear my sisters’ voices in person— the intonation, the accents, the lilt of emotion— that you can’t obtain through Facebook status updates and inbox messages. And a few scoops of Maw-Maw’s oyster dressing and potato salad take you back to all those Christmases and Thanksgivings past, when all our loved ones were still alive and all was right and good.

Don’t get me wrong— like all families, we’ve certainly had our challenges and traumatic events to overcome: sudden and tragic loss of life, drug addiction, autism, misophonia, verbal abuse, dementia, cancer, misunderstandings, personality conflicts. But because of, and in spite of, all those situations, last weekend, my grandmother, my uncle, my two sisters, my brother-in-law, my two nieces and three of my nephews all crammed together in Maw-Maw’s little house in Biloxi, Mississippi for a day and a half, and it was glorious. We hugged, we kissed, we cried, we laughed, we ate cake. The adults in the group on Saturday night had a blast at a local casino (the only one that’s smoke-free) since Ciara, my oldest niece, is now 21 and old enough to get into gambling establishments. We didn’t spend (or lose) much money, but it was a hoot watching Maw-Maw give Ciara a lesson on using the slot machines.
The next day, we came together again, early in the morning, for French bread and coffee, then we exchanged gifts (one person at a time with everyone watching, just the way Mom liked it). Some of the gifts were store-bought, some were gift cards, and several were handmade, special presents. Next, we managed to have room for everyone to sit together and enjoy a homemade Southern Christmas meal together: oven-roasted turkey, maple-glazed ham, oyster dressing, yams, green-bean casserole, potato salad, Waldorf salad and cranberry sauce.

One of the special aspects of this holiday, though, was the fact that we had two new individuals from outside our family join us: Anne, who is raising my nephew Blake, drove over from Florida so that we could have him join us for Christmas; and Frankie, who is my sister Wendy’s new boyfriend. Wendy and Frankie have known each other since they were kids living in Thibodaux, Louisiana, and they’ve reconnected through Facebook, uniting this year as a loving couple. This Christmas was the first time the rest of us had spent time with him.

Now, the point of my sharing all this is to explain that indeed I’ve always looked forward to and enjoyed spending precious time with my relatives, but it wasn’t until Frankie had left us Sunday afternoon to, rather reluctantly, drive to Louisiana to be with his own family that I realized just how truly fortunate we are.

Soon after he’d left Maw-Maw’s, he sent a text message to Wendy, who then read it aloud to us: “Just want to let you know that I had a wonderful time with you and your family, and I love you, and I love all of them. Please let them all know that they are like the family that I never had. It felt so good to be around people that show that much love for one another. You just don’t realize, I have not been shown that type of love in 46 years of my life. I am very proud to say that I will be a part of your family real soon.”

We all had to rub our eyes dry after hearing that, and we sat rather silent for a moment and let it sink in.

For all of you who dread those family visits during the holidays— those who don’t have the precious memories to cherish and the relatives to hold close— just know that sometimes you, like Frankie, simply have to look just a bit farther outside your family circle to find that love and comfort and joy. I genuinely hope you find it.