Fortnightly Poem 14.B (Karen’s)
Last year I was lucky to have all of my family together at xmas (including those who live in France) the first time for at least twenty years. And last year the wonderful Tim Minchin wrote a song called Drinking White Wine in the sun which so precisely echoed my previous long-held antipathy to the commercialism of Xmas and the very recent discovery that really it’s not about any of that stuff, just the opportunity to treasure family… I wrote this poem. There are some direct quotes from his song which I have put in bold (since italicising provides insufficient differentiation in the this font).
Drinking White Wine in the Sun (2022)
(Apologies to Tim Minchin)
I’ve never really liked Xmas -the cliché of ‘Family Time’
eclipsed by its opposite: by ‘Those alone doing it tough’ —
families far-flung, estranged, gone…
So Ms Grinch said Bah Humbug! citing greed, hypocrisy
Christian usurping of Yule, clinging to winter rituals
in the summer sun
Most of my far-flung family were also dismissive – ignored it
celebrated the solstice, or were recluses who didn’t
understand the fuss
But one living in the land of white Xmas
where reindeer and sleds make a bit more sense
completely embraced it
Not just the tree and the pud, advent calendars and stockings
on the mantlepiece, she has it both ways: French Christmas Eve
and Aussie Christmas Day
My daughson sometimes visits and we’re usually ‘orphans’
at some cousin’s table, or friend’s gathering. Their joyous togetherness
confirming our otherness
We tried eating out – Middle Eastern—they don’t close at Xmas
and it was singles or couples quietly drinking tea
I hide my wine in a paper bag, drinking it from a thick china cup
At least 3 old ladies shuffle past with their plastic bags and vacant eyes
One came in shyly asked for a glass of water
She stopped us feeling sorry for ourselves…
Sometimes we’d stay home and cook favourites – perfect lamb cutlets
just like Gran. Pulling crackers, silly hats that don’t fit, groaning at jokes
copious champagne helping a bit
But the boisterous tribes of xmas past always insisted on hanging around…
*
This year they were here! –a real family gathering . All of us –
siblings and offspring, partners and friends -a new bub on the way
Three generations! Drinking white wine in the sun!
It’s strange what separation from family does…You suddenly see
the awesome evidence of genetics . ‘Haven’t we all got Dad’s nose’
grown longer and broader over the years…
So we can proudly quote our grandfather ‘There’s never a fool behind a big nose’
Childhood memories only we can share, even though they may conflict!
Strange things we have in common: we always finish our drink first;
use way too much salt, have a love of solitude and bush, a dislike of dogs…
And the lurch when my brother calls me by the name only Dad and my late
partner used… Stranger still to be The Matriarch—trying to channel Mum and
her unflappable calm, smiling to herself midst the chirping bedlam
And yes, we were drinking white wine in the sun- my brother, my sister, my
daughters, their sons— reminding me at last:
That wherever I am, and whatever I face
These are the people who make me feel safe…