Happy Bird Day

If you have to be a bird on Thanksgiving, it's far better to be an eagle than a turkey. And frankly, I'd prefer not to be one of those talking birds. Oh, how I'd love to be mute and just perch silently on a little branch and watch and listen, take it all in.

My mother dreads big gatherings of any kind, simply because she so desperately wants to be a part of the conversations and cannot, because she is deaf. I think I've probably mentioned that her deafness does not deter her -- certainly not from talking, and, most infuriatingly, not from pretending to hear. But her deafness makes her self-conscious; it makes her feel stupid. There are worse things, I want to tell her. After all, she could be the turkey.

As far as this bird is concerned, I would relish the opportunity to have an excuse to not participate. To not have to respond to the inevitable questions about what I'm doing or how this or that is going. "Fine" never seems to satisfy; people, well intentioned though they may be, always want details. The details of my own life bore the living shit out of me (when they're not just pissing me off), and after I find out whatever interesting news there is to be discovered about everybody else, I'd much prefer the role of spectator. Watching the festivities without the benefit of sound actually seems appealing. I suppose it's easy to feel that way when you're not sentenced to a life of silence.

There is a definite benefit to my mother's deafness this year, at least for the rest of us. With the family all in one room, we will be able to plan her surprise eightieth birthday party right there in front of her, while she smiles knowingly. It's ingenious; because we'll be discussing her, all eyes and smiles will be directed at her for a good part of the dinner conversation, and she will feel very much a part of things, though she won't have a clue why. And it will give us all something to talk about -- a mission, if you will -- and I, for one, will be happy to not be fielding questions about my divorce or my job search or my (ugh) dating life. No doubt my kids will be just as happy to not field the usual questions about school and life thereafter. Win, win.

Now I know that just because I'm going to be planning a surprise party for my mother I shouldn't expect not to be kicked in the stomach about whatever deficiencies I've exhibited as a daughter. It's ironic, but the more attentive I become, the more she feels the need to remind me of how inattentive I usually am. Sometimes it's just more rewarding to be a cold bitch.

I'm looking forward to Thanksgiving dinner with my extended family. And I am thankful, as always, that I am not a turkey.