Today is Tuesday, December 26, 2023.       I hope everyone had a tolerable Christmas for those who celebrate and that you didn’t experience the kind of turmoil that was captured in a recent episode of the Hulu series called The Bear when the entire family gathered together for a holiday dinner that turned incendiary.   I watched the episode with Elliot sometime ago and was captivated by the family drama that spilled out at the dinner table and the bad blood that was in clear evidence.    That I hope you didn’t experience if you went home to share Christmas presents under the tree and sang Christmas carols. 

We were away this mild Christmas, spending the time with our friends in Easton, “Ralph” and “Sandy” and their two daughters, “Esther” and “Rae,” plus their jittery three cats, Lola, Salem, and Ziti (also named “Noodle”).      The most friendly and more visible cat turned out to be Ziti who came out more times than the other two.   At times, she even allowed me to pet her head; she also reminded us, powerfully, of our departed cat, Jocelyn.    She had the same markings, but had more of a hint of red in her that Jocelyn didn’t have. 

We left on Sunday early in the morning.    We stopped in Jersey City to have breakfast at Beechwood Cafe before driving to Easton.   We lucked out in the sparseness of the traffic heading south.  We arrived at the “Hirschhorns” at around 2-ish.   We even had time to stop in town for coffee at the only cafe open on Christmas Eve.   However, the town bookstore called the Quadrant was closed before 2, so we were not able to stop for coffee or browse the books on the shelf there.   

The festivities were supposed to begin at 3, so we were definitely on time.   We had a little time to say our hellos to the family and to put our bags in Esther’s bedroom.    Within a half or so, people started streaming in – mostly family members.   Sandy has two sisters and one brother so they and their families clambered in.  I was enthralled with Rae’s 30-year-old boyfriend, “Taylor.”  He was very interested in my stories of old New York, not stories of the 19th century, but my experiences living in New York during the dark and dank 1960s and 1970s.    I recounted stories of having gone to movies located on the Deuce, 42nd Street, which didn’t have the homogenized, Disneyfied reputation it does now.     For those of my generation, the Crossworlds of the World had a much raunchier reputation then before corporatization of the area sanitized the region a hundredfold.     I have happy memories of going to first-run theaters on 42nd Street all those years ago and I mentioned this to Taylor.   I also mentioned my attending meetings at the early incarnation of the LGBTQ+ center on Little West 12th Street.  The Center is now on 208 West 13th Street, off Broadway, I think.     I haven’t gone there in a very long time.

Dinner was served around 5:30 0r so.  Sandy is a fabulous cook, so she made delicious lasagna, ravioli, and pumpkin pie.   She also made tasty tomato soup.    We brought bagels, knishes, and spreads.   There was an additional family at the dinner table from Chile, a man (Javier) and wife and two very pretty daughters (one of the daughters attended Lafayette College where Sandy works in an administrative capacity) who brought chocolates and gingerbread cakes with vanilla icing.   He also served us a local liquor from Chile which I decided to sample.   It had a chocolatey flavor and was very soothing.  Someone from Sandy’s family brought homemade cookies.    Sandy also made homemade fudge which I have yet to sample.   

This family gathering was a much pared-down version of earlier Christmas gatherings held before the pandemic when both parents of Sandy were still alive and family members came in from all parts of the country.   Today many cousins were missing and it was actually less frenetic with fewer people sitting in the dining room.  The holiday tradition of someone dressing up as Santa Claus was also ditched about three years ago.    The tradition of exchanging inexpensive presents was also abandoned.  

When everyone left, I stayed up by myself as Ralph and Sandy disappeared.   Esther and her sister also left as well as Elliot who went to bed.   Rae actually left with Taylor to drive to his parents in Pennsylvania.   I was forced to watch noncable television and was quite disappointed in the range of fare available.    Just out of boredom, I began watching A Christmas Story from 1983.    This is a traditional holiday film shown every Christmas.   As you know, it stars Darren McGavin and Melinda Dillon as the unnamed parents to youngster Ralphie Parker (Peter Billingsley) who dreams of his ideal Christmas gift, a “Red Ryder air rifle.”

On Christmas morn, the same Chilean family who came the night before glided in for breakfast around 11:30 a.m. so we had to wake up slightly earlier to get ready for the four guests.   Since it was a little chilly, I went to the bathroom twice during the night.    So even though I had set the alarm, we were able to wake up before the alarm went off.    There was a new guest at the table this time, an exchange student whose name was “Rayner.”  I remember having an interesting conversation with her regarding the HBO series The Deuce which told of the sex-trade industry in the heart of New York’s Times Square district in the 1970s.  She recalled that it starred James Franco and Maggie Gyllenhaal.    I mentioned that I hadn’t seen it. 

After everyone left, at some point in the afternoon, Ralph, Sandy and I took a walk by the river through Hugh Moore Park which we got to by car.    Elliot and Esther stayed home.    As we walked from one end of the trail to another, we had a most thrilling conversation.  Ralph and Sandy spoke about their house being visited by the spectral presence of the former owner of the house when they moved in in 2004.    My ears pricked up when I heard their fascinating tale of experiencing paranormal activities in their newly moved-in ranch house in Easton.   Stories of closets inexplicably opening up without anyone being there; televisions shutting down for no reason; DVDs being hurled out of a DVD machine for no sane reason.   This culminated in Esther actually seeing the image of the former owner sitting in a chair wearing a duster.   I listened to these stories raptly since I’m interested in the supernatural and the possibility of there being ghosts or spectral images of those who have passed on disturbing the living.    It appeared that both Sandy and Ralph were convinced that their house was invaded by a ghostly presence for about 6 months.   Eventually, these manifestations did die down and peace settled on their homestead from then on.   I couldn’t engage the couple in offering a counter explanation for the events they had purportedly witnessed 19 years ago since they were so adamant that the supernatural was indeed involved here.  I just left them with their unwavering belief that they were visited by a vengeful ghost who couldn’t abide their renovating her house. 

We went back after a rigorous walk through the tree-lined area.  Then it was time to discuss what to eat for dinner.    We decided to call in an order to the only Chinese takeout place open on Christmas Day at around 5:30.   I went to the place with Sandy at 6:30 since they said to come by within an hour.   As we walked in, we were met with a long line of people waiting to pick up their orders.  So we had to wait a long while before even getting to the front of the line.  While we waited, who walks into the joint but Javier and his two daughters from this morning and last night’s holiday dinner.   What an odd coincidence! we thought.     We said hello to the threesome, and then they walked out since they hadn’t called in an order.  They didn’t think it was wise to wait on line just to order, so they walked out.  When Sandy got to the front, she asked if our order was ready, and the young cashier said, “no,” and told us we had to wait another half hour.   The time was already close to 7, so we decided to just cancel the whole order. 

When we got back, we saw that Elliot and Esther had made a bountiful salad and Sandy heated up some leftovers from the night before.  We were not left hungry.  After dinner, we sat down to discuss what to watch on TV.    We settled on a 2012 HBO film called Hemingway and Gellhorn starring Clive Owen and Nicole Kidman as the globe-trotting war correspondent Martha Gellhorn who became Ernest Hemingway’s third wife.   It’s quite interesting to me that an Australian plays Gellhorn and a British native plays an American literary icon.   Of course, both principals were magnetic and stellar in their roles.   They were together only nine years, from 1936 to 1945.    They got married in 1940 and divorced in 1945.   In the film, Owen gets the testosterone-fueled literary giant remarkably down pat.  From his heavy drinking to his macho posturing with his many male dudes, Owen captures the aura of Hemingway.  Kidman captures the restless, adventurous spirit of this woman who was the only female who arrived in Normandy on June 4, 1941, on D-Day.    The film spans decades, beginning with the involvement of Hemingway and Gellhorn in the Spanish Civil War, and ends with the suicide of Hemingway in 1961.   

Today we woke up at 10 and stumbled into the kitchen to have a nice breakfast consisting of quiche and knishes that we brought from Knish Nosh here on Queens Boulevard.     Before we left, Elliot, Ralph, and I posed for our traditional picture that we’ve been taking close to 20 years now.   This time, we broke tradition by having Sandy and her daughter, Esther, enter the frame. I also wore my anti-Trump T-shirt for the first time.   We sadly hugged everyone as we said goodbye.   

We stopped once at a Cracker Barrel at Exit 15 in Clinton, New Jersey.   Then we drove straight through to Queens.  We walked into the apartment close to 5 p.m. 

Tomorrow we’re meeting our Astoria friends “Seth” and his husband “Jerry.”  I’m not sure then if I’ll be here for your edification.   But I’ll try.

Stay safe and be well. 

This is the T-shirt I wore in today’s annual Christmas picture.  Horrible, isn’t it?