November 29, 2002
kids table
This distantly related, “friend” of the family shows up to Thanksgiving at my grandparents house every year. He’s an older gentleman who is very traditional and very intelligent — a PhD, in fact. He has, over the course of a lifetime, made more enemies in the family than friends but is close with my grandparents and so is invited to come to diner with his wife every year.
My aunt, the youngest of my dad’s family, is a very “take charge” person. Must be in control of everything at all times. Someone pays her good money for this. She’s quite good at what she does.
My grandpa had a stroke a few months ago. It was one of those that destroys veins — breaks them off. (The other kind of stroke is where you have a clot and if caught within twelve hours can be cured.) Exploding veins in your head do damage without fail and sometimes it’s irreparable.
We (myself, Christina, my sister and step-mom) had three obstacles going to my grandparents this holiday and we did a great job. The philosophy was that of the “big fish”. Tiny fish swim together to look bigger — to look like one larger fish. We were not going to be taken down by any other fish. Overall, we are calling it a success.
I had to sit at “the kids” table again this year. So did my wife, my cousin and sister. I was rather upset about this until my dad told me this morning that he was 30 before he got to sit with the adults. That helped a little bit, but I still feel some defeat because of it. One of the reasons that the distant relative became more distant is because of the kids table. He always encouraged it and my step-mom stood up to him about it one year. The outcome was not pretty and she swore she would never attend another event that included the Armstrongs. My aunt was the one who was in charge (of course) of setting up the tables. I’m guessing that she sat at the kids table until she was 30 too and there was no way in hell in anyone under 30 was sitting with the adults — not while she was running things.
It could have been a 10, but I give the event an 8 overall because of it. As for my grandpa, he was no obstacle at all. A stroke can be a difficult thing, but not when you live with my grandma who can see the good in everything. She says that this, “is a blessing,” and, “like a honeymoon without all that sex,” because they have been so focused on each other for the past few months. My grandpa is now looking forward to playing golf this spring, can walk around the house all by himself and can lift his arm about half way up. He’s lost his beer belly and is looking, sounding and feeling really good.
posted @ 3:28 PM