Giving Thanks . . . Sorta

Every family is a little mini-culture. Each family has its own particular communication style. The family culture Donutbuzz and I have created is one of open communication and affection. You could say we're effusive. It's just how we are as a young family.

We each came from another family, though. And I am certainly, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the most effusive of the family from which I came. Keeping one's emotions, both positive and negative, to oneself is a family trait. I might have believed it was transmitted entirely through "nurture" if it weren't for this phone conversation my three-year-old had with her babysitter the other day.

H: Hi, Lydia.
Lydia: Hi. Where are your kitties?
H: They're outside. What are you doing?
Lydia: Playing. When I come to your house I want you to cover me up with the blanket and say where's Lydia and then I'll laugh.
H: Okay. I love you. I'll see you soon.
Lydia: (silence)
Jellyfilled: Lydia, tell H., "I love you. Bye bye."
L: By bye. Thanks.

Yeah, she said thanks. I love you was too much. She'll stick with a polite and friendly distance, thank you very much. The funniest part about that exchange was that it reminded me of a very awkward moment from my own past.

Sometime after Donutbuzz and I were engaged, we were visiting his mother when she received a telephone call from a relative who lived far away. The relative, an elderly lady, had never met me and would not be able to attend our wedding, so she wanted to speak to me on the phone. Now, first, let me tell you how uncomfortable this was for me. Phones are not my thing. Meeting people isn't even my thing. And meeting someone on the phone is certainly not my thing, what with my stuttering and my general social awkwardness. Meeting one's future in-laws, no matter how distant, on the telephone, is sooo not my thing.

But I spoke to her. And she was, thank goodness, kind to me. She asked me some questions, and I answered as politely and briefly as I could. After two or three minutes, she wished us the best with our marriage and ended with, "I love you."

I was petrified. What? She LOVED me? She didn't even KNOW me! Now, looking back, I realize the graceful thing to do would have been to say, "I love you, too." Even though I didn't know her. Even though throwing around words of affection when I don't truly mean them is not something to which I'm accustomed. But it would have been better for everyone if I'd just said it.

I didn't.

Instead, I mumbled around a little and said, "Thank you." And then, after a quick goodbye, I gave the phone back to Donutbuzz and crawled under a rock until most of the red in my face went away.

But I digress. The point to all of this is that expressing emotions orally is not something we did much of in my family, and no matter how much I try to be effusive, part of me will always hold back.

But not as much as the rest of my family holds back.

When we visit my side of the family for the holidays, there is always a bit of a clash of cultures -- not just the Jewish and the Christian, but the effusive and the stoic. Sometimes it's ugly, sometimes it's frustrating, and sometimes, as was the case on Thanksgiving, it is just plain funny.

I was helping my mother prepare the Thanksgiving meal in the kitchen. My brother and my husband were chatting nearby. Donutbuzz, true to form, was overcome with the desire to express his Thanksgiving thankfulness to my family.

"I'm thankful for all of you," he announced.

My mother continued to stir the gravy. My brother began looking out the window. I was thinking I should have mentioned to my husband how nobody at our house ever expresses thankfulness on Thanksgiving. It's just understood.

Donutbuzz, thinking he had not been heard, repeated loudly, "I'm just really thankful for you all."

My mother checked the turkey. My brother began to study his shirt.

Now, I didn't marry a dummy. By this time, he knew what he was dealing with. So why not have fun with it?

"Hey, man, " he said to my brother. "I'm thankful for you. Aren't you thankful for me?"

"There's something on my shirt," my brother muttered.

"I said, 'Aren't you thankful for me?'" Donutbuzz insisted.

"What in the world is on my shirt?" my brother said, beginning to scrub at a small white spot.

Donutbuzz chuckled a little and turned his attention to my mother, from whom my brother inherited his reserved nature. "How about you. I'm thankful for you. Are you thankful for me?"

My mother, sensing there was absolutely no way out of this exchange since she did not have a spot on her own shirt, said, her words dripping with sarcasm, "Oh, my, yes, I am soo thankful for you."

I guess it was just the best she could do.

I think Lydia and I need to let her in on our secret. When cornered, just say, "Thank you." Sure, it's socially awkward, and not the expected response, but it's a polite phrase, and who can fault for you for using it?