A Holiday Tradition

Before I left today for week two of the great American road trip my oldest son decided we should have a family dinner. We don't really celebrate Easter, just as we don't celebrate Christmas or Hanukkah or Ramadan or much of anything else, but if it's an excuse to eat, we'll take it.

After my suggestion of hasenpfeffer was voted down, the boy decided on a nice balsamic-mustard glazed ham, roasted pearl onions, broccoli, and homemade au gratin potatoes. While he cooked, the Lovely Bride studied and his brothers watched basketball. I contributed by downloading music in the study and occasionally remarking on how good everything smelled.

Sunday is my mother's day to visit anyway, and an invitation to a meal prepared by her grandson sounded fine to her. After we finished eating and the younger ones returned to the basketball game, the conversation turned, as it so often does in our house, to death.

"I've decided I'd like memorials sent to an African wildlife fund when I die," said my mother.

"Oh God, here we go," I said.

"I'm serious," she said sternly. "I have very much enjoyed my visits there and would like to help preserve it for future generations."

"Why don't you have people give me the money?" I asked. "I'll make sure it gets put to good use."

"It wouldn't be that much," said my mother. "If I win the lottery, however, I'll make sure you get something. Then I'll set up a foundation with the rest."

"Typical liberal nonsense," I said. "Why wouldn't you give it all to me? Do you dislike your grandchildren? Not that I'd blame you."

"Shut up, dad," said my oldest, coming to grandma's defense.

"Besides, I need all the money I can get," I added. "The boys won't let me live with them when I get old."

"Mom can," the youngest piped up from downstairs.

"That's because you're so unpleasant," my mother told me. "I can't imagine what you'll be like when you're old and sick." Turning to the Lovely Bride she added, "You should make plans for how you're going to deal with him."

"I hope by smothering me with a pillow," I muttered. "Soon."

"People should discuss these issues. You already know what I'd like done with my remains," she continued.

"We're going to have you stuffed and keep you in the entry way," I said.

"What will you do with him when he dies?" she asked the Lovely Bride.

"He'll outlive us all," said the Lovely Bride. "He's stubborn."

"More like cursed," I said. "Do we really need to have this conversation right now?"

"Your family needs to know your wishes," said my mother.

"My wishes never seem to have any impact on my family's behavior," I said. "If I have a choice, though, I'd like to be tied to a pontoon, set on fire, and pushed into the marsh in our backyard."

"You should see if a medical school would take his brain," she told the Lovely Bride. "That's what I'm doing with mine."

"I'm sure his brain would be a gold mine for researchers," said the Lovely Bride.

"Good, that's settled then," said my mother, gathering up her things. Nodding at me she said, "He'll be gone all week. That should help."

My oldest rolled his eyes in agreement. "Thanks for coming Grandma," he said.

"Thank you for inviting me. It was a lovely meal."

It was something, alright, I thought.