(11/28/24)

Fluorescent light wriggles in its tube, like it's alive. I noticed this as I spun in a black office chair in our wide, cold garage. Our cat spun with me on my lap, filling the air with purrs and light brushes of fur. On Thanksgiving night thousands of people leave their families to watch live football in a massive, cold stadium. Among those thousands and they are so alone. I sat with my family today and ate smoked turkey and four different casseroles. Other sides included Mac and Cheese, Mashed Potatoes (with chunks), two different types of dinner roles, and two fruit platters. After dinner we talked, and we talked for hours. I listened mostly. Sometimes my uncles would ask "the college kid" what I thought about some local squabble or grand political issue, and I tried to tip-toe around the land-mines that their questions left behind. Eventually the talk grew to reminiscence, and that's when I became more attentive. The subject of the night was war, and my family's lack of connection to it. My grandfather was not drafted to Vietnam because he had to raise my dad and his brothers. My grandfather's father was not deployed to World War 2 because his foot was blown off in a mining accident. I have learned today war in not among my familial expertise. My dad tried to join the air force in Desert Storm, but was discharged due to his bad eye sight. I can say, with some certainty, that no grit fills my veins. There is no ancestral spirit of mine that participated in the arenas of history. We stayed on the sidelines, crawling through what's left. The cat hopped down, so I guess that means that I can finally get up.

~clancy