As I prepare for a Christmas celebration together with two special boys, I ask myself why I observe the season. Far from "Peace on earth, good will to men" Seattle is filled with people bustling through stores. The tone of the city, far from festive, is dark, most shoppers harried and cantankerous.
The Leather Community touts a distinctive assortment of relationships that we consider "families." Most have little semblance to the heteronormative "family" that traditionally defines Christmas. And the majority of us do not boast of being Christian. Rather, we are also Jewish, Buddhist, Muslim, Pagan, and Atheist. As a Buddhist I celebrated Buddha's Enlightenment Day last week in a simple Zen ritual. Others have already lit the menorah as Hanukkah begins.
I recommend that as a Community we always retain our sense of diversity this season. While many of us enjoy the Holiday season as an excuse to dredge up childhood memories, others face the challenges of a season without loved ones and friends. For me, it is particularly challenging, the first season without my parents and without a partner by my side.
As I write this post I realize that the childhood memory that I cherish most hearkens to another challenging Christmas season when I was six years old. It was a day of fear, of confusion, and a great deal of happiness at simply being together. That Christmas Eve I woke to the smell of smoke. "Get up quickly," my mother said as calmly as she could. "Quickly, out to the car!"
Together with my brothers and sisters, we were herded frantically into our Volkswagen bus. We sat shivering in the New England cold as my mother rushed back into the house. Minutes later the firetrucks arrived and my father with my mother by his side, stood at the front door. I remember sitting in fear as watched the firemen enter our house, passing my mother who headed toward us waiting in the bus.
My mother drove us to friends who lived a few towns away. That night I recall my concern about my father who had not followed us. He had remained behind with the firemen. My mother assured me that he would be joining us later in the evening. I lay awake that night waiting to the sound of his footsteps and fell asleep deeply troubled. Would my father be OK? What has happened to our house? Had our house burned completely down? Hardly visions of sugarplums!
Christmas morning dawned and I awoke with a start in a foreign bed. I slowly made my way downstairs and took a deep breath. I was certain that there would be no Christmas for us and realized that at the end of the day, there might not even be a place that I could call "home." To my surprise, there were the same presents under our hosts' tree. My parents and siblings soon joined me.
"There wasn't much damage," my mother explained. "Only in the kitchen. We can go back home in a day or two, don't worry!"
As I think back on that Holiday I remember both the fear and the joy. This is the Christmas we all remember in my family, the Christmas fire. On that Christmas we learned that being together was worth far more than the deceit of stockings hung from the mantle. We were safe and our home was spared.
This Holiday I am thankful that I have a comfortable home where I can invite my Leather Family to celebrate the season. Once again, I return to that Christmas spirit many years ago, of gratitude for my relationships with family. The fact that I define "family" in a different way as a Leatherman does not dull the glow of this important lesson.
Boys, property, Leather brothers, close friends, and a nephew, this is the family I celebrate this season.
