This return to Funegro is prompted by the realization Thanksgiving is but 10 days away.
And with that realization comes a true sense of thanksgiving for family -- and for sterile, soulless church multi-purpose rooms where we can gather with those whom we are barely linked through some sketchy bloodline and share in the tepid bounty of the season heaped upon overmatched flimsy paper plates while sitting in cold metal folding chairs making small talk and confirming, once again, there are a finite number of topics in this world.
Still, it is good to gather, even under such circumstances. The richness comes with human interaction. The experience makes us better and, according to Nietchze, it makes us stronger (as long as, you know, the flourescent lights and warmed over green bean casserole doesn’t kill us).
And so we shall gain strength next Thursday as we grudgingly swing open the cheap metal industrial doors and stride down the threadbare builder’s grade carpet and dank, dark halls to meet the vaguely familiar pear-shaped distant relatives waiting in garish novelty seasonal sweaters. Strength and honor, indeed.
Yet as I reflect on this tribute to family and tradition, I recognize how sad it'd be if we missed the gathering. I'd go to any length to make this occasion. Rearrange schedules, make special arrangements . . . why, to enjoy such glorious fellowship, I'd travel far beyond the mid-cities.
Maybe even as far as Tennessee.
