My Family - Putting the Fun Back in Dysfunctional

The dashboard clock read 9:l6 p.m.when we shoved the last gift into the car and took off for Atlanta. My daughter drove and I road shotgun.  My job was to keep her awake when the extra large cup of coffee failed to be effective.  We had stopped just before heading up the I-85 ramp at a Racetrack where we locked the doors and prayed we wouldn't see a real shotgun.  My mother used to tell me Montgomery was more dangerous than Atlanta and the filling station looked as if it would prove it.   We left  Montgomery and my family's Christmas Eve Party, tired, with higher cholesterol and full of memories and a need to talk.  Most of our conversation began with "Did you know?" and "Did you see?"  The questions and answers were enough to keep anyone awake.  Since I was a young girl my family has gotten together on Christmas Eve to exchange presents.  Polaroid shots recorded the first gatherings where my brother and I were flanked by our older siblings and a couple of their kids.  Eight millimeter films showed that our family had grown and prospered.  Nicer house, nicer gifts. Cam recorders saw marriages and babies added to the ranks.  My older brothers became grandparents and my parents passed away.  I changed husbands like the others changed hairstyles.  My brothers became great-grandparents and I became a grandmother.   Despite it all, or because of it, still we gathered at Christmas Eve.   Now ipods and camera phones catch a few memories but most of the images will only linger in our minds and hearts.  As our numbers increased, gift giving began to change also.   There was a time when everyone gave everyone a gift.  The value of the gifts under the tree in the 80s was about that of the economy of a small third world country. The US retail business flourished.  I sometimes think our family's decision to play Dirty Santa has singlehandedly caused the recession.   Now over 40 adults played the game and over a  dozen others watched and laughed at the winners and losers.  Eleven children were considered  too young to be subjected to the terror of having a $50 Bass Pro Shop gift card stolen from them.  My father used to tell me "spend time with the people who will cry at your funeral".  These are the people I hope will cry. They are my siblings and my nieces and nephews, great and great-great. In-laws and out-laws. They may only see me at Christmas, funerals and weddings; but they know me by name and I love them on sight. They are funny and smart and gifted and not-so-gifted and I am proud of them and proud to be a part of them. My daughter and I talked about "healthy relationships" and "being well-adjusted and emotionally happy" on the trip home.  We talked about "rational and reasonable" families and we decided we would rather be in this one!