December 25, 2001

• Texmas
  
  (note: I wrote this yesterday and would have blogged it, but the opportunity eluded me.)
  
  Music: ‘Christmas In Suburbia’ – Martin Newell
  
  My family isn’t all that different from other families. Perhaps I have it better than most; upper-middle-class, resources and money, generally emotionally open, active in the neighborhood/church/community. My sister and her husband have two kids, my brother has three. I’m the non-breeder, apparently, but it’s no big deal. They’re reasonably successful by any social standard, while I’m not, and that’s not a big deal either, really. My nephews and niece like me, the way you like an uncle. I like them, I like my sibs, I like my parents, there won’t be any drunken sniping at Christmastime.
  
  Sometimes, in moments of small virtue, I wish I was in an abusive pressure-cooker of a family. It’s just so pleasant, so unfilled with strife or politics, so uninteresting. How sick is that? There’s no story to tell. It sounds like the inside of a Hallmark card if I tell it. The biggest conflict so far this Xmas: Who was supposed to bring candy? Seriously, there was a tense moment about whose duty was to bring some candy. Voices were raised, someone produced a gun. No, not really. Nothing of the kind. Mom had gotten an extra bag of candy at the store anyway.
  
  It’s a nice, day, too. It’s actually sunny. A small miracle for me, coming from Seattle. Out of this blue, my dad and my brother-in-law and myself went for a walk at the Edith L. Moore Nature Sanctuary, which also happens to be the headquarters for the Houston chapter of the Audobon Society. It’s a beautiful 17 acres along Rummel Creek. It’s also the place I’d go to without fail for solace and solitude during my long, long (long long long) battle with crippling depression, so I feel really connected to it. It was nice to get there, with two men who figure prominently in my life.
  
  The sanctuary is a victim of development, of course. The city built a huge underpass nearby for a 10-lane highway, altering the watershed dramatically. Neighborhoods flooded, so there was outcry for the city to increase the capacity of Rummel Creek. Of course, the city couldn’t dig up the nature sanctuary, so there’s this huge creek-cum-drainage ditch that empties tremendous amounts of water into the undeveloped creek within the sanctuary. The place is eroding away rapidly; we’re talking a few banks that are 6-10 feet wider than they were six months ago.
  
  But it remains beautiful, and is essentially the only source of shakti for the surrounding square mile or so. Hopefully it’ll survive the assault of development.
  
  I also spent an evening with stjnky a few nights ago, drinking beer and regaling tales. It’s also kind of sad, too, because our favorite pub, The Ale House, inside a three-story house built in the 1920s, was torn to the ground for PARKING. Yes, that’s right, a real, honest-to-goodness place of community and history, flattened so that more people can park at Borders books. So I hooked up with stjnky at The Stag Head, built to take up the pub-related slack the Ale House left. Nice place, nice company.
  
  My relatives have given me lots of clothes for Xmas, since I had to jettison my luggage in Oakland to avoid missing more planes due to waiting in line. Sweaters, shirts, a fleece hat.

  • 11:18 pm
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