This was our conversation over brunch. It was prompted by our catching up on the little slips of paper with Advent assignments on them. One slip said, “Call the church office and say, ‘Merry Christmas!’ If no one answers, leave a message.” Another said, “Make a list of people who need your prayers; keep it on your fridge, and pray for them.”
As LG went to make the phone call, I was thinking of a post that I’ll publish soon, in which I go on about the Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays thing. I asked Jif, “Are you offended if someone says, ‘Happy Holidays’ to you?”
“No. Not at all.”
“Have you ever said, ‘Merry Christmas’ to a Jewish person?”
“Yes, a few times. Not knowing . . . ”
“And were they offended?”
“No. They recognized my intention…”
“See, that’s all I’m saying. Would you be offended if I wished you Happy Hanukkah?”
“Nope.” He then starts singing a very catchy Kwanzaa ditty that LG taught us a couple of years ago.
LG, having made the phone call, and now sitting at the table ready to make our prayer list, says, “One of the cafeteria ladies just says, ‘Happy Happy!’ so she doesn’t offend anybody.”
I offer, “Sometimes I say ‘Happy Merry…’ for the same reason.”
Jif says, “You can do better than that . . . make up something that combines everything…”
“Like . . . Merry Hanukkwanzaa?”
“Yes, but you have to get Christmas in there…”
“I did. With the ‘Merry.'”
“No, that’s not enough. How about, ‘Merry Hanukkwanzaamas?'”
“Yea! No one should be offended by that . . . ”
“Oh, some still will be. But if you say ‘Merry Hanukkwanzaamas!’ to someone and they take offense . . . well that person will just not be happy no matter what you say, so you should kill them.”
I laugh, and LG shakes her head. “You two are talking about killing people while I’m making a prayer list, you know.”
Here, I get to use one of my very favorite Hillbillian expressions. “Yes, but only people who NEED KILLIN’!”
“I’m putting you two on the list,” she threatens.
Somehow (oh, believe me, I KNOW how) this leads to a discussion of my family of origin, the Weinerschnitzels. “Put them all on the list. They all need prayer.”
“I’m part Weinerschnitzel,” says LG.
“Yea, and be thankful you’re only part. If you were PURE Weinerschnitzel . . . ” Jif says.
“Is that where you get the ‘killing people’ thing? Do Weinerschnitzels want to kill people?” she asks.
“Mmm . . . no. They don’t spend much time with the ‘want to,’ part of it. They pretty much just do it!” Jif and I laugh at my family, as we have over the years, to keep from crying. There is much LG doesn’t know.
“Fine. The Weinerschnitzels are on the list. We should also pray that Uncle Paul [Jif’s brother] doesn’t kill anyone.” Paul is visiting his in-laws this holiday, and yesterday at the family breakfast, he expressed a fear of homicidal inclinations emerging during the visit.
“Yes, put Uncle Paul on the list. . . ”
About this time, LG tosses a brunch remnant into Biscuit’s dish. It is a gluten-free waffle. Don’t even get me started on this gluten-free thing. The waffle is hard as a freakin’ rock.
We now have, on our fridge, a prayer list:
- Susie, in hospital [not me; this is the mother of one of LG’s friends]
- Stacey, expecting a baby
- Weinerschnitzels (they want to kill people)
- Uncle Paul (don’t kill Janie)
- Biscuit (trying to eat hard waffle)
Yea, she’s gonna need therapy.
A disclaimer: To our knowledge, no one on either the Weinerschnitzel or the Fairchild side of the family has ever actually been convicted killed anyone who didn’t need killin’. No, really. No one.
What Was I Thinking? 