Thanksgiving Back East

I had the pleasure of going back east for a few days last week to spend some quality time with friends, family, and my monster puppy. I even got to see the dirty Jerz, Italian fam-clan, who never fail to put on a good show.

My grandma Lucy has always been a bit…uhh…how shall I say…mmm…eccentric.

She was in rare form this visit, however. But ya gotta admit, her ridiculous antics do make for some top-notch grandma theater.

It is a well established fact that my grandma carries the heavyweight champion of the world title when it comes to Debbie Downering.

Using her prowess for pessimism, my grandma could morph a pile of rainbows and teddy bears schmeared with baby laughter paste into a suicidal heap of arthritis, crumbling economies, and tumors.

Pretty much every story that she told concluded with one of the following three endings:

1. And then he died (classic grandma).
2. And then she grew a tumor.
Or my favorite…
3. And then he was trampled to death (this one was a new addition to the repertoire of gloom).

Grandma is always the life of parties.

Oh, I also made the mistake of mentioning to her that I had been sort of dating someone in San Diego.

Normally, I am a strict minimalist when it comes to all forms of relationshippy conversations with family members because awkwardness and discomfiture are always soon to follow.

But, an uncomfortable pause transpired in the conversation, somewhere after either John Smith was trampled or Jane Doe grew a tumor, when I had absolutely no idea how to respond, and quite frankly, couldn’t handle another ultra depressing story.

So yeah, in a fraught attempt to change the subject, I told grandma about the sailor boy, Marc, that I had been dating. I told her that he worked as an engineer on a battleship and that he did a lot of traveling with his job.

Without skipping a beat, grandma’s response to this information was, “He’s probably got a different girl in every port, you know…pass the lasagna.”

Good talk, grandma. I wish only the best for you too.

Moving on…

All in all, my trip back east was delightful. Although, also somewhat strange.

The first night I spent back in Walpole, I had the Garden State realization that the house that I grew up in wasn’t really my home anymore. It was just like in the pool scene when Andrew says to Sam…

“It’s like you feel homesick for a place that doesn’t even exist…and you won’t ever have that feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself.”

Weird. Realizing this, made me feel sad - and kind of hollow. But at the same time, I recognized just how much I do like being on my own out in California - I’m so happy to be back.

Oh and p.s. I decided that I do indeed like that sailor boy. Probably not the best idea, however, considering he’s gone now, back to Maine until sometime in January…

Dum ti dum ti dum.