In a thankful mood.
The holiday looks different this year, but the sentiment is the same.
I said in last week’s newsletter that this Thanksgiving would be different from others, and at the time I wrote those words, I had no idea how true they’d be.
As late as last Thursday night, my wife and I had been planning a small Thanksgiving dinner. Just our household, her parents, and her sister and boyfriend. The closer we got to the date, though, the more uneasy we felt about those plans.
While only eight people, that gathering would include four households. We had no way to guarantee our guests hadn’t been exposed to COVID-19. And even though we’ve severely curtailed our going out in recent weeks, leaving home only for essential trips, we still couldn’t be entirely sure that our daughter hadn’t brought something home from daycare or that we hadn’t contracted it from grocery shopping. And so, early Friday morning, my wife made the call to cancel the dinner.
It was 100% the right call, but I’ll admit that it made me sad. I’m not an extrovert by any means — I’ll cop to the fact that I don’t share people’s disappointment in missing out on big parties, heading to the office or being in large groups — but this is the time of year when gathering with others is just part of the fabric of the season. Traditionally, Thanksgiving weekend is nonstop for us. We head to one family party on Thanksgiving morning. We spend the day after the holiday doing Black Friday shopping and decorating our home. We have a family tradition of going with my parents, siblings, and nieces and nephews to a Christmas event the Saturday after. Sunday is the kick off of Advent, and we’d normally be in our church, watching them light the first candles. After that, we’d be headlong into holiday parties, enjoying family traditions, and hitting busy shopping centers. In addition, the week after Thanksgiving is traditionally when I spend two days in a movie theater with about two dozen other critics, catching up on year-end movies.
This year, there’s very little of that. Tomorrow, we won’t leave the house, nor will anyone visit ours. We’ll have muffins and watch the parade. We’ll eat turkey with all the side dishes, just the four of us. We’ve decided that each of us is allowed to pick one Christmas movie or TV special and we’re going to do a post-turkey marathon of them all. And then this weekend, it will be largely quiet. We’ll put up the tree. We’ll watch some movies and play some carols. We won’t set foot in a store.
And you know what? I’m happy thinking about all of that.
The older I get, the more I recognize how the busyness of the season can be overwhelming. We spend so much time preparing food, getting the kids dressed and dashing out the door that we don’t stop to think about why we’re doing it all. We rush to so many gatherings and events that our primary emotion is exhaustion, not gratitude. There are several years where I can’t wait until Dec. 26 just because I want it all to stop already. I love the holidays, but in recent years I’ve too often felt like I spend the month between Thanksgiving and Christmas with my head stuck in a tinsel-festooned pinball machine.
Maybe it’s not such a bad thing to have a small, simpler holiday season. Maybe slowing it all down, removing the rush and stress, and forcing us to celebrate without additional obligations provides an opportunity to meditate on the meaning behind it all and soak in the season just a little bit more. It’s okay to be nostalgic for large family gatherings and to hope for a more fast-paced, nonstop celebration next year. But maybe in the midst of this challenging year, it’s good to slow down and focus on the things right in front of us.
There is something fitting about spending tomorrow only with my wife and kids because there is nothing I’m more thankful for. Yes, spending the last eight months together nearly 24/7 has been a challenge, to put it lightly. There have been short tempers, big blowups and several tears (not just from my kids). But there’s also something reassuring and sweet about being together so closely through this. I like that my wife and I can take a few minutes to step away from our laptops, head into the other room and vent about work. Seeing my son interact virtually with his classmates or develop his skills as a storyteller for school has allowed me to see him not just as my kid but as an individual growing in maturity and complexity. After a tiring day, few things make me happier than heading to daycare to get my daughter, who always beams and cries out “daddy!” when she sees me (followed every single time by “what are we having for dinner?”).
These are the people I get to do life with. Thirty-one isn’t a late age to get married, but it was definitely not the norm in my family, where both my siblings married their high school sweethearts. Kelly and I are going on 10 years in March, and I’m thankful for every holiday we’ve had the privilege to spend together. Mickey and Cece have only increased that joy, and I don’t think I’m the first parent to say that the holidays have gained new energy and magic since we’ve had kids in the house. We learn from each other, we laugh together, sometimes we cry together. As the pandemic has culled many of our routines and escapes, I’ve found myself increasingly grateful that I have these three wonderful people to hunker down with and live alongside. I can’t imagine doing any of this alone. And even when the quarters get a bit too close and I’m aching for solitude, I know that those moments of being alone are only good because they end, and soon I’ll be seeing my wife’s eyes and my kids’ smiles again.
Kelly and I are thankful to have jobs that have remained relatively stable throughout this year. She had six months where her workload was cut down from five days a week to four, but we both know that was a small sacrifice compared to what others faced. We’re thankful to have jobs that can be done remotely and workplaces that have been flexible through this. I’m deeply grateful that I have a job that I enjoy. My wife has worked for an advertising agency through this, and watching the insane work atmosphere there, even virtually, has made me so thankful that’s not the arena I’m in. I get Zoom fatigue if I’m in three meetings a week; she has about five a day. And I think I’d burn out completely if my job were centered around making faceless corporations money and crafting copy to help an automaker sell a widget. I’ll have been at my job eight years next month, and I’ve always been grateful that I work somewhere where I believe in its mission and work, and that my coworkers are friendly, talented, motivated and not driven by ego. Returning to my alma mater to work has been one of the great professional experiences I’ve had, and without it I also wouldn’t have been able to pursue and finish my master’s degree. A coworker and I were venting recently about some minor frustration that I’ve long forgotten about, but in the middle of it, I stopped and said “but you know what? Ninety-nine percent of the time, I love this place.” For those of you who haven’t been in the work world too long, that’s a really good percentage to have at your workplace.
The pandemic has brought our entire lives into new focus, and if we’re doing it right, I think that can lead us to a better understanding of all we have to be thankful for. I love the house we’ve lived in for the last six years, but over the last eight months, I’ve come to really appreciate the glassed-in porch where I can work under the bright sun on warm days or the large bay window in our living room that provides my view the majority of days (looking out at our magnolia tree is much better than the view of a parking garage I have at the office). I’m thankful for good pour-over coffee and poached eggs in the morning, for long walks that help me clear my head at lunch. I’m thankful for a church family that’s found ways to keep us connected when gathering together hasn’t been safe and friends who’ve found ways to stay in contact from a distance. I’m thankful for good wine or bourbon to sip as I end a week. Even though I haven’t been to a movie theater since February, I’m thankful that movies still provide a great escape at the end of a hectic day. I’m thankful for family that has remained healthy and safe through this. I’m thankful that the pandemic has opened new opportunities for me to pursue my side projects, from the two podcasts that give me a chance to interact with friends to the ways online screeners have provided an unexpected and more convenient way to continue reviewing films. I’m thankful that we had a pandemic lull this summer that allowed us to get away for a week up north, travel to Ohio to ride roller coasters, and for open-air restaurants that allowed us to get out and relax. I’m thankful for our puppy, a one-year-old Boston terrier/Jack Russell mix named Max who spends the days quietly resting on our couch and then is happiest when we play fetch with him all evening.
This is a hard year, but there’s still good in it. I’m glad we have weekends like this to remind us of that.
Coming Sunday - Weekly Advent Calendar
So, I’ve been thinking about how this newsletter could best reflect the upcoming holiday season. I realize there’s probably a divide among those who’ve wanted to read my political or spiritual reflections and those who want movies and TV talk. It’s hard to find the balance between the two, and I tend to just go with what feels right when I sit to put this together each week. That said, I’m a Christmas nerd. I love to reflect on the meaning of the holiday season and I also love partaking in holiday pop culture. So, every Sunday from now until Christmas, I’ll be putting out a special Weekly Advent Calendar. This will have a weekly reflection about the season, but then a special Chrisicisms section where I highlight another piece of holiday viewing/listening/reading for each day of the coming week. So, if you want an extra dose of Chrisicisms, keep an eye on your mailboxes on Sundays (or sometimes Monday mornings, depending on how the writing goes that weekend).
The Digest
Where you can find me online this week
“Lovers Rock” review: If you’re not watching Steve McQueen’s Small Axe anthology on Amazon Prime (or, if you’re in the UK, BBC), you’re missing out on some of the best filmmaking of the year. Last week’s “Mangrove” was a stirring legal drama, but the director switches gear with this week’s installment. “Lovers Rock” is an energetic house party backed by the year’s best soundtrack. It’s vibrant, sexy and gorgeous, the rare film experience that feels alive. McQueen’s crafting quite a love letter to England’s West Indian community, and I can’t wait to see the next installment. Review on BHM Pop Culture.
We’re watching Here: To coincide with the holiday, Perry and I released this week’s episode a few days early. Fittingly, we’re talking about movie-related things we’re thankful for. It’s not just a list of movies we’re thankful for, but anything cinema-related. The result was a fun conversation, and I’m glad to get it out there! Listen on Apple and Spotify.
Chrisicisms
The pop culture I’m loving this week
“The 25 Greatest Living Actors of the 21st Century (So Far)” This list by New York Times critics A.O. Scott and Manohla Dargis is already creating controversy online, a mark that it’s good. You can quibble about some of the selections (I’ve seen several upset about how high Keanu Reeves ranks) and omissions (no Tom Cruise, Phillip Seymour Hoffman or Cate Blanchett?). But in the end, that’s the fun of these lists. Scott and Dargis are great writers, so their essays are a pleasure to read, and while I might take issue with some of their rankings, most are dead-on. A great read.
Jingle-Jangle - A Christmas Journey (Netflix): Typically, I’ll be saving the Christmas-related stuff for my Advent calendar. But we watched this with the kids the other night and it seemed worth a mention. It’s an original Christmas musical, concerning a slighted toy maker (Forest Whitaker), whose apprentice (Keegan Michael Key) has stolen his greatest invention and profited off it. Can the inventor’s heart be warmed by the appearance of his granddaughter? I mean, yes. What kind of Christmas movie do you think this is? The film’s script is a mess; it’s as if the writer fed “The Greatest Showman,” “Short Circuit,” “A Christmas Carol” and “Santa Clause: The Movie” into Netflix’s algorithm machine, printed it out, crushed it up with a line of candy canes and gumdrops, and then snorted them before watching. It makes little sense, there’s no emotional continuity, and it makes sure to jingle every cliche bell on its way out. And yet, I still recommend it. The production design is gorgeous, the songs are catchy and the cast is a lot of fun. It’s far from being a classic, but kids will enjoy it and it sets a festive mood.
Happy Thanksgiving everyone! I’ll be back Sunday!