Another great Christmas at the Beere house. Here's a re-cap.
9:17 I wake up earlier than I would have liked thanks to my mom coming into my room with the news that Santa had come. (For the record, this routine never gets old - even though I’m 26. I might ask for the “Santa” talk to be retired once I turn 30 – which happens to also be the age of my planned retirement - but I doubt it). Before even getting out of bed two things suddenly occur to me: 1) I bought my mom a can opener for Christmas. 2) While out drinking with old friends the night before, I’d learned that an old high school classmate of mine had participated in a body-building contest and there were pictures of said contest available on the internet if one were so inclined…
9:50 Working Google looking for female body-builder pictures of my former classmate.
9:51 Find them immediately and am shocked and not surprised all at the same time. That's her alright, but more tan and more greasy than usual; I guess she looks like a body-builder.
9:52 Man, she sure is shiny. All of a sudden I get the feeling that I'm not supposed to be looking at this, so I get out of there.
10:02 Pictures in front of the tree with the family and then we’re out the door to church without having opened any presents. The schedule worked out weird this year so we’re going to church on Christmas Day before opening presents. 8 or 9 years ago I’d have taken to the streets with a picket sign and bullhorn, handing out literature to confused neighborhood passersby out for their Christmas morning constitutionals. But now I’m a working stiff just like everyone else so I take it like a man and get in the back seat.
10:09 28 Days Later, we’re the only ones on the road. It occurs to me that this may be what Mormon children grow up feeling like. Going to church all the time while all the other kids are already riding their new bikes or getting through the first level of Zelda.
10:11 Mass starts in only 19 minutes. We pull into the parking lot and it’s deserted. This means we’ve got at least 20 minutes of sitting around looking at people and I didn’t have the cajones to bring my ipod so I’m going to have to do it while listening to the choir tune up.
10:13 Walk into church, immediately recognize at least five people among the clergy and another 3 amongst the choir, to say nothing that the music leader is the same and so is the piano player. This happens to me every year and every year it gets weirder because I’m only here - you guessed it - once a year. I try to put it behind me as I start looking over the church decorations and altar details. I, like many of you, have recently had my life hijacked by a book called The DaVinci Code and so now everywhere I look I’m trying to discover symbols pertaining to the Priory, the Grail, etc. Being in a church puts my Robert Langdon complex into overdrive and I briefly consider quitting my job in favor of lifelong symbology research and adventure. Does this happen to you? Sometimes I have trouble differentiating my own psyche from those of famous movie characters such as Indiana Jones and other guys like Jason Bourne. Trust me, you’ll know what I’m talking about when I eventually break out this little-known mental condition in a future column. At least, I hope you will.
10:23 Dad knocks me out of my daze by pointing out that Mel Torme is sitting in one of the pews in front of us. I smile because I immediately know the game is on. See, it’s not actually Mel Torme. It’s the fake Torme. A few years ago my dad and I invented a game in church where we scan the congregation looking for celebrity look-a-likes. Fake Torme was the man who started it all. Usually we wouldn’t point out a guy twice, but this year has been paltry so any sighting is welcome. At this point we’re pretty much keeping score where ever we are, but on this trip the lone highlight was when I spotted Stephen King standing in front of us in line at the supermarket.
10:30 We’ve reached the official start time of this mass, but the priest apparently refuses to come out of his dressing room. I think Elvis used to do this to his audiences too.
10:52 The mass finally underway, Father Fred delivers what appears to be the same homily he’s used the last 36 times I was here. To sum it up for you, it goes something like this: “Friends, I know that life can be hard sometimes. What you need to do is keep believing in God and coming to church.” With that we breeze through communion and file out of the building. On the way out I spot a mom who looks like Diane Lane. Frustrated and desperate, my dad immediately motions towards a stodgy, 50-ish looking Caucasian man and with a straight face says to me: “Shaquille O’Neal”.
11:45 Mmm – Lunch. Leftovers of Mom’s famous chili.
12:11 We finally decide to open our presents. I go first, ferociously tearing open a present that turns out to be a women’s blouse. As I understand it there was a slight mix-up with some identification tags. No matter. We continue on and everyone seems happy with their haul - especially me, because I got a great suitcase I’d been wanting for my trip this year. Oh, I’m glad you asked: I’m going to Croatia this year. I’ll tell you all about it afterwards, so expect the unexpected. Actually, go ahead and just expect the expected. I don’t want to disappoint anyone.
12:15 Mom starts opening one of her presents from me and I remember, again, that I got her a can opener. It seemed like a good idea at the time; I know she likes kitchen stuff and this particular brand of opener is her favorite. But during my first fifteen minutes home I noticed a ballistic, carbine-gas powered can opener anchored in its charger on our kitchen counter. I guess I always knew that I wasn’t a very good son, now we just have further evidence. Thankfully, dad allowed me to also go in on a blender with him so I am not completely disgraced.
1:52 Presents are all finished and I’ve taken my rightful place seated next to my dad on the couch. Like a couple of rhesus monkeys we immediately flip on the TV looking for football but find none. “I don’t understand,” we say to each other. “Sometimes there is football on Thursdays. Today is Thursday but there is no football.” That’s as far as we get before Dad falls asleep and my brain reverts to its favorite program: “figure out what to eat next”. See you next year.
