Chilling for the holidays

When Emily asks me to join her in Minnesota for my first Christmas with her family, I am hesitant. “I might ruin the vibe,” I say.

It isn’t just that I’m Jewish. It’s that I’m not very jolly. Actually, I’m no fun at all. Even as a teenager, when I tried to smoke pot, rather than dancing like a fool or “tripping” out to music like other kids my age, I became seized with paranoia. Once, while at a fast food restaurant, the cashier having asked, “how can I help you?” I became convinced she was asking the question rhetorically. The insinuation being that I was beyond anyone’s help. But Emily wants me to go, so I go.

Sunday. 7:10 a.m. At my in-laws, in a guest room surrounded by baseball memorabilia, at an ungodly hour of the morning, I prepare myself for the rituals of Christmas. Emily’s family lounges around in slippers and bathrobes. Growing up, the closest I ever came to a bathrobed family member was the time my grandfather showed up to the kitchen table naked save for a double breasted suit jacket. It seems he was out of clean pants. Emily’s mother offers me something called “Johnny bread” that proves to be quite delicious.

9:00 a.m. Exchanging gifts. “Are you saving the wrapping paper?” I ask, unwrapping my box with great trepidation. Growing up, we recycled the same 3 or 4 pieces of giftwrapping paper and so we unwrapped with the care one gives to removing gauze from a burn victim. I receive a book about Houdini, and a box of cards with optical illusions – gifts that would’ve made the ten-year-old me very happy. I even receive a pair of slippers, the first I’ve ever owned. They fit perfectly, too. Emily’s parents must have measured my shoes the last time I visited.

11:20 a.m. Dancing. Emily loves to dance and so even though I feel like at any minute the universe is going to boo me off the stage, I make an effort. This involves executing this move I learned in sixth grade. It makes me look like I’m fighting back gas while putting up a shower curtain.

On the day of our wedding, my mother told Emily’s mother that Emily “loosens me up.” I guess she does, because Christmas in Minnesota proves to be a great time. And with that realization, my heart grows three times its size. Just kidding. Only indigestion. Possibly brought on by the Johnny bread.

Ah, indigestion! Final proof of any fun time.