Two Christmas Stories

This has been an interesting Christmas, to say the least. The season was rung in by my increasing anxiety over American consumerism, and following paralysis in the face the pressure to buy and receive gifts, when neither I, nor the people I would give to, had any need. I resolved this dilemma by buying inexpensive, unthoughtful gifts at the last minute only for those who I knew would be hurt if I didn't. I consider this choice a dismal failure. I'm hoping to find a better resolution next year... perhaps that can be my New Year's resolution: In 2010 I will resolve the gift giving/receiving dilemma... except I never actually do New Year's resolutions... hmmm new dilemma...

Christmas story numero uno:

Despite wide spread skepticism of the weather forecast I emerged from my home in Abilene Christmas Eve morning to discover a few inches of snow covering the earth as far as the eye could see (so, to my neighbor's house). Since I was about to drive to my parent's home in Fort Worth, this charming holiday surprise was not welcome. However, after listening to the radio for a while to hear the road conditions and no one mentioning any problems, I set out with confidence (for those of you confused by this action who are thinking, "why not just check the weather on your computer, or the weather channel, or your iphone?" I have access to none of these fancy technological advances in my home. I know, try to contain your awe and wonder at my Quaker-like life).

My zeal to be homeward bound was heightened after talking to my mom and finding out that my sister had had a problem when she got to the DFW airport the night before and had to be rushed to the hospital, where she still was. The snow was blowing hard but there didn't seem to be any build up on the road. I nestled myself in for a long drive, turned on my new Brandi Carlie cd (thank you Amy), got my coffee thermos situated and thought "I dare you to try and stop me storm! I will be home for Christmas!" Oh the arrogance of 20 somethings. To make a long story (sadly lacking grand drama) short, the storm took me up on the challenge. About 20 minutes down the freeway I hit some ice on the road, lost control, and skidded off into the center guardrail. Stupid stupid stupid girl.

The police officer who came to help me was not nearly so kind or helpful as the Bangladeshi boys who helped me out of the ditch in my second bicycle accident. First of all he didn't get me off the road like they did, but left me to sit there in my handicapped jeep and wait until some other vehicle hit the ice and skidded my way; and secondly rather than being in awe of my beauty, eager to do all he could to make me comfortable, he gave me a speech about reckless driving that ended in a citation (though speaking the same language has its advantages, I'm starting to wonder if I shouldn't have taken one of those Bangladeshi men up on their marital offers). So eventually I was removed from the freeway, as was my vehicle and some dear friends risked life and limb in the worsening storm to bring me back to Abilene to celebrate Christmas with them.

At some point during all of this I called my mom to let her know that her other daughter wouldn't be making it home either, only to find out that my brother's flights had been cancelled and he was stuck in Nevada. If you see my mom any time soon, give her a good long hug.

Though the time with my friends was the joyfullest, accidental, home away from home Christmas that anyone could ask for, when I finally stepped through the door of my parent's house a day later and saw all my siblings and nephews I was overcome with relief and thankfulness. Who cared about about "gifts"? We all made it home for Christmas. After a few heartfelt hugs and thoughtful looks, my siblings and I got to the serious holiday business of making fun of each other and our parents as extensively and cleverly as possible.

So, that first story was a smidgen longer than I anticipated. Rather than going through the trouble of changing my title (arduous work it is) I will end this entry here, and will get #2 to you at my earliest convenience.

How are you?

I talked to Rina recently and found out that no one in her family has had a job for the past couple of months. They are all living in one room in Dhaka, surviving on rice.

"How are you?" she asks me.

What would you say?

"Well, I've got more stuff than I know what to do with and am getting more by the minute (since it's Christmas and all). I've got so much in fact that I have to spend significant chunks of time organizing and ridding myself of it. I'm prospering and can be almost certain that I will never see a day of real need in my life. I have so many friends and family that I'm currently pretty stressed out trying to figure out how to stay in contact with them all. Lately, since I am off school for a month, I've been spending a lot of time sitting around thinking and drinking coffee."

Good thing I have no idea how to say anything like that in Bangla.

I tell her I am well. I tell her I am so sorry things are so hard for her. She says, with her fearless (or powerless might be a better characterization) optimism, "astay astay bhalo hobe" [slowly slowly things will be well]. I say that I love her, feeling very much like the hypocrite who tells the starving to be well fed. She she asks when I am coming back to Bangladesh. I don't know. I don't know. She reminds me (as was our joke while I was there) that I need to get married, have a baby, then move back so she can cook for me and take care of my child. Yes Rina, I'm working on that.

I think, "forgive me, forgive me for abandoning you, my sister."

I think, "I have to get off the phone so I can go buy Christmas presents..."