HARMON: Being thankful in the face of me, mine and ours
It's Thanksgiving tomorrow and as each one of us remembers those things for which we are thankful, I wanted to give thanks for a few things and share some other thoughts with you folks.
For family, the one or two friends I have and my dogs, I am thankful. For this wonderful country, struggling so with so many issues, I am thankful. For the roof over our heads, the heat in our home (especially the hot water heater), I am thankful. For the food found in the grocery stores in such abundance, I am also thankful. And at this time, because of the fear of leaving something out and being held accountable for such, I want to say I am hereby thankful for any omissions I should have mentioned but did not.
Also, as we approach that time of year when reflection comes upon us, we should remember that, as hallowed a time as it is, for many people it can be trying and depressing. Especially when they have to eat dinner with relatives they would prefer to see every other decade or so.
Just the other day, after an exhausting, emotionally draining morning of browsing old family photos (some from the turn of the last century) and devoid of all desire to eat anything at all, (due to the reminiscent nature of reflecting on loved ones who would not be attending Thanksgiving dinner this year), my mother and I were forced to break bread at a beach restaurant with two "loved ones" whose names will not be mentioned here but who can be described as the most efficient human vacuums ever invented -- sucking the very air off the beach and into their lungs as we starved for a breath.
Yes, after a morning of crying, laughing and thinking about all the good things we had shared with ones who now occupy a different space in the universe, we were forced to break bread with these two, as though breaking wind in church -- something one would try to avoid at all cost -- and dragged to a restaurant only a self-absorbed, food addicted, flagellating monk could enjoy.
We sat facing into the afternoon sun and suffered through a meal with relatives who used us as pawns to make themselves feel worthy of air. If I heard the words "I," "me," "mine," "ours," or "money," once, I heard them 100 times in what could only have been an hour, but it seemed like watching a marathon of "Gone With The Wind."
The older I get the less patience I seem to have for this sort of stuff, but one can't be rude. The question is how can you sit across from a 93-year-old fountain of family history going back nearly 100 years and not ask a single question about one's ancestors (or anything else for that matter).
After all, there must have been one interesting family anecdote between 1922 and 2015 that had escaped their self-centered non-prying eyes. An uncle who may have died in the war, a famous cousin or two, horse thieves, certified nut jobs. But no, it was all about me, mine and ours.
We were joined by 80-year-old cousins who would have loved nothing better than to continue to learn about the photographs we perused that morning. Instead, you guessed it, they were also made to stare into the sun and listen to nonstop bloviating about minutiae that only affected the two with their backs to the sun and their heads in the clouds. The 80-year-old cousin offered to pick up the check and the two "clueless at the beach" were only too ready to acquiesce, reminding him, as he filled out the credit card info, that he and his wife could stay at their second beach house "anytime."
I thought I saw his upper denture loosen just a tad when his draw dropped. This was followed by a clicking sound as he sucked the thing back into the roof of his mouth. If this sounds familiar, I'm sorry. Well, I'm thankful for their success, I just wish they had an ear for a voice other than their own.
I leave you with the thought that sometimes people are thankful when you listen more than talk. When you ask questions about how it is with them instead of telling them how it is with you. And we can all be thankful for the "loved ones" who tolerate us around the table each Thanksgiving. May we all have an endless supply of Rolaids.
Sonny Harmon is a professor emeritus at Georgia Military College. Visit his blog at http://sharmon09.blogspot.com.
This story was originally published November 24, 2015 at 9:44 PM with the headline "HARMON: Being thankful in the face of me, mine and ours ."