Friday, November 27. Christmas Tree For Three. Acme For Four. Jude Flies Away. Leftover City. I slept until nine. It's not a day off for me, but it is an easy day. I finished my daily writing chores around one, and the four of us went out on a dual mission. First, we bought a Christmas tree. If we don't do this the day after Thanksgiving, Jude won't be part of the ritual. And even he wants to hold on to a little of our old family life.
We betook ourselves to Red's in Covington, our tree source for the last ten years or so. Mary Leigh--the governing authority over tree selection for at least that long--began her shopping, while the rest of us milled ineffectually about. Nobody even dares question ML's choice anymore. Even though she usually finds five or six trees she likes, and agonizes at length over which to buy. It's as much about not wanting to leave the second-best behind as finding the ideal. Sometimes her indecision allowed one of her finalists to be grabbed by another customer. That shot that tree to the top of Mary Leigh's list, adding further angst. Other times, as she ran from one candidate tree to another trying to decide, she'd find new finalists. The process took at least an hour. This drove Jude crazy, but didn't disturb either Mary Ann or me. The four of us wandering around a Christmas tree lot? We live for interludes like that.
Which is why I felt another pang of wistfulness today. Mary Leigh chose her tree within five minutes. Her short list had only two trees on it. The crowd at lunchtime on the day after Thanksgiving wasn't large enough to worry about competition. Before I knew it, I'd paid the $75, the helpers had the tree on the roof of the Pilot, we each had candy canes, and were off to lunch.
The Acme Oyster House was packed. After waiting awhile, we took a table in the bar, right next to the oyster grill. That room has high tables and chairs, which I don't like; I'm never comfortable when my feet don't touch the ground. But nobody else was complaining, so I didn't either.
We watched them grill our dozen oysters. It took about four times as long as it took us to devour them. From there, all orders were predictable. Mary Leigh: wedge salad with blue cheese, bacon, and tomatoes. Jude: Bowl of seafood gumbo, and the catfish from a seafood platter. Mary Ann: Fried shrimp from that platter. Me: Fried oysters, same source.
"This is what I love more than anything else in the world," Mary Ann said. "The four of us together."
"Yep," I said. "We'll remember this moment more vividly than we would if we were together all the time." I got The Look. Typical male. Always trying to look at things rationally. The kids avoided this matter entirely, knowing it would only kill the mood. Killing the mood is a capital offense to Mary Ann.
The male rational view explains why Jude is going back to Los Angeles after only two and a half days here. There's not a lot of sentimentality in the mind of a twenty-year-old man with a work obsession like his. He must be on site at a movie shoot in the desert north of L.A. before dawn tomorrow. Everything else is secondary to that.
I did my radio show from home as Jude lifted off. Dinner plans were set in stone: we would be eating Thanksgiving leftovers. For a long time.
