Homo for the Holidays

by PHIL MARTIN

G21 Staff Writer

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I have packed my Tagamet, Pepcid AC, Extra Strength Tylenol, and Mylanta. I have pleaded with my friends (to no avail) for a few Valium, Librium, and Demorol. I have also managed to nestle two small bottles of Tanqueray between my toothbrush and deodorant. So with my shaving kit now resembling a housewarming present from Dr. Kevorkian, it can only mean one thing...the annual holiday visit to my ancestral home.

And why do I still refer to it as "home?" After all, I haven't lived there for nearly 20 years.

Yet, as soon as I walk through the door, I miraculously turn 13 again. It doesn't matter that I now have crows feet and a mortgage; my mother still asks me if I wiped my feet before I came into the house. David Copperfield may be able to saw a woman in half, but my mother can knock 27 years off of my age with just one look. Heck, Ponce de Leon didn't have to go all the way to Florida to look for the Fountain of Youth. All he had to do was go visit his mother to end up being treated like a kid again!

Don't get me wrong, I love my mother. But why do I put myself through this bitter/sweet ritual every holiday season? One word...tradition. And nothing says tradition more than the holiday season. In fact, the first traditions I became aware of as a child all centered around the holidays.

In elementary school a hot topic of conversation was the DTA for Santa at your house. Did he visit in time for you to open your presents on Christmas Eve or were you on one of his later routes which meant you opened your gifts on Christmas day?

Our family tradition was that Santa always visited while we were at church on Christmas Eve. It wasn't until years later that I realized that each year as we got ready to leave for church on Chirstmas Eve, my father invariably had to go back inside the house and use the bathroom. So my mother and I would hop into the car and drive down the street to look at all the neighbor's lights. Then we would pick my father up and go on to church. And year after year, I would be amazed when we got home from church that Santa had already been there (I never claimed to be the brightest bulb on the tree)!

My parents had other holiday traditions as well. It was one of only two times in the year that they would imbibe in a small glass of wine (they used the same bottle of Mogan David for over 5 years). Turkey was served on Christmas day. The same two "Firestone Christmas Classics" albums would be played while presents were being opened. We also went shopping for gifts and food for a more "needy" family. And the Christmas tree always came down the day after Christmas.

I spent every Christmas with my family until eight years ago. I had "come out" to my parents the Christmas before (the best present I ever game them) and they were still having a hard time accepting me as a gay man. So I decided it was important for me to establish my own holiday traditions. This included not going home to my parents' for the Christmas holiday season. And since I am an only child, it was a drastic change in the family tradition.

Everyone ends up changing their family's traditions. Heterosexual people who get married suddenly have to accommodate two family traditions. And when a child is born into a household, the traditions again make a shift. So why do queer folk feel guilty when they want to break from their family's traditions?

Sometimes I worry that those of us who are gay don't have enough of our own traditions. Maybe its because we are still a relatively young "community," but it frequently seems that we continue our old traiditions simply because they are the only traditions we have.

But if that means going home to a family that doesn't accept who you are, or doesn't want to know anything about your life, why go?

Today I have holiday traditions that have been constructed over the years. They include putting up my own tree (which comes down on New Year's Day), attending Chirstmas Eve service, donating gifts and money to more "needy" people, and a lot of visiting of friends. My friends are my true family. And I love spending the holidays with them.

My holiday traditions also includes a visit home to my mother. This never occurs on the actual holiday, but usually a week in advance. s important for me to let her know that I love her. But it is also important for me to let her know that I have other traditions too.

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