From: Sam Damon Date: Sat, 2 Apr 1994 19:32:48 -0500 (EST) I meant to upload this humorous piece pre-Xmas '93 but was too busy to do so. I guess it's still applicable now since many people went home for Easter/Passover. It's somewhat dated (ie the TV shows listed ... early/mid 80's?) and relies on stereotypes but older gays (25+ yrs old) seem to enjoy it for nostalgia's sake if nothing else. I'm not sure where my photocopy came from. ============ "Despite what Thomas Wolfe said, you not only *can* go home again, but about this time of year you may *have* to! Remember, though, that donning your "gay apparel" is only good at a songfest, not for -- SURVIVING A HOLIDAY VISIT HOME advice from Alan Banks There are many ways to prepare for a visit home for the holidays. One way is to brush up with a phrasebook of regional expressions -- "Pleased to meet you, ma'am," and "Hot enough for you?" for example. Another way is to go through an old high school yearbook or family album, reminding yourself that the awful way you looked back then is the way most of them still look now. Unfortunately, the best preparation for a visit home is to spend a couple of days inside your closet. And I don't mean trying on outfits. Even if your family knows Your Terrible Secret, there will still be a wide cultural gulf to bridge. When you ask to see a newspaper, you might be passed a copy of the National Enquirer, or worse, USA Today. When you ask what's been going on in theatre locally, you'll be pointed to the newest Neil Simon comedy, or possibly a splatter movie. Certain of your behaviors will appear strange and exotic. They may not, for example, be able to understand napping after dinner and getting up at 11:00 p.m. to go out. Your sister may inquire why it is important to leave one button on your fly open at all times. Your brother may suggest that casual wear dictates one or two buttons undone on a sport shirt, not five or six. Your father may offer to loan you a pair of pajamas. Remember to react with forbearance when they say, "Yick! Black sneakers!" Just keep telling yourself: It's not their fault. With any luck your hair will pose no problem, since it probably looks a lot like your folks used to wear it in the forties end fifties. They may even compliment you on your good taste in crew cuts, flat tops or d.a.'s. A Mohawk may pose more of a problem, however. Just tell them, "Well, it was so cool in the summertime, I just decided to leave it..." As for your sunlamp tan, tell them you've been bothered by occasional acne. Understand that your mother will be gearing up for the holiday feast and that meals in the meantime will be barely edible -- in other words, a lot like you remember them. Practice lines like, "My, isn't Birdseye doing interesting things with frozen vegetables these days:" and "Oh, goodie, Hamburger Helper again!" Do not under any circumstances refer to tuna casserole as "fairy pudding," or you will ruin it for your family forever after. And by all means encourage their attempts to inch forward into the present. If your sister produces cheese and crackers before dinner, praise her lavishly, even if it's Velveeta on Ritz. Your brothers and sisters and their friends will be a source of much interesting information. They will appear to be discussing who got married, who's buying a house, who's having a new baby, who's got a job transfer. Learn to listen between the lines, and you will quickly discover who's getting divorced, who's in AA, who had a nervous breakdown, who's in jail, and whose kids are on drugs. As bizarre as your family's lifestyle may now seem to you, keep in mind that you spent your formative years in this environment and somehow survived and prospered. Think of yourself as a cultural emissary. When you go out shopping with your brother and he admires the designer jeans, fondle the 501's. Share whatever enthusiasms you can -- such as your sister's for Tom Selleck, Daniel J. Travanti, or whichever one of Simon and Simon is your cup of tea. But remember above all that your time with your immediate family is only a dry run for that most difficult and demanding of occasions -- the fullscale, extended-family, holiday dinner. Come the big event, chances are you will be effectively camouflaged in a suit or a jacket and tie. If questioned on the cut of your clothes, tell them the dry cleaner shrunk them inadvertently. And when you first see your assembled family, the whole terrifying array of uncles, aunts, cousins, and indeterminates, try not to give yourself immediately away by having an allergic reaction to all that polyester. Now is when your careful preparation will pay off. Smoothly entering the gathering, you will kiss only the women, and when greeting the men you will remember to slap backs, not caress butts. You will say, "Hey, how ya doing?" not "Well, how are you?" You'll tell them, "Jeez, you're lookin' great!" not "Don't you look *marvelous!" You will also observe certain heterosexual rituals regarding physical appearance. You may compliment your Aunt Harriet on her new dress, but try not to ask where she picked it up. You may tell your cousin Danny that he appears to be in excellent shape, but don't ask him what he does for his ass. And when Uncle Mike asks if you lift weights or something, do not fall on the floor laughing or curl your lip and sneer, "No I had them applied surgically." Instead, smile shyly, look at the floor, and say, "Aw, shucks, I just stop by the gym once in a while after work." This is also the time when you will apply certain principles of heterosexual speech and gesture. You will not, for example, talk with your hands, cross your legs at the knee, or put your hands on your hips for emphasis. You will avoid certain terminology in casual conversation, such as: "fabulous:' "only" used as a superlative, "really" used as an affirmative, "dish" as a verb, "Mary" in reference to someone not of that name, "honey" with the accent on the second syllable, "to die" as an adjective, and, last but not least, "Can we talk?" Try not to be hypersensitive, however. If you hear a muttered "Nelly!" keep in mind that you have a great aunt by that name. If a cousin invites you to go out cruising with him after dinner, remember that he's nuts about his '67 Chevy. And when some mentions AYDS, remember that they're probably dieting. There are certain family members you will want to reserve special greetings for. For instance, with weird Cousin Bruce, who used to speak with a lisp and play with dolls and whom they wouldn't let you play with when you were little for fear of his possible influence, be sure to ask him how his wife and six kids or doing, and if things are really picking up in the construction industry. As for dignified, ladylike Aunt Lucy, don't forget to ask after Miss Fitzsimmons, her roommate and business partner, and to say you're sorry she couldn't make it again this year, but that it's understandable that she might have prior commitments. And as for Cousin Kevin, with the fabulous tits, the Giorgio Armani suit, and the co-op in a distant city, the two of you should try not to monopolize the conversation, debating the merits of Placido vs. Luciano or of Davis vs. Hepburn. Instead, get off in a corner by yourselves and catch up as much as you like. Just don't stay in the corner too long. Aunts can get very jealous. You would do well to practice answers to certain questions inevitable at family gatherings. For instance, "So when you gonna get married?" Remember, *don't* say: A. "When hell freezes over," B. "As soon as I meet someone who wears all the same sizes I do," or C. "Are people still doing that?" Instead, *do* say: A. "As soon as I find a girl just like you, Aunt Agatha," B. "Gosh, if only I could find the time for dating," or C. "Women nowadays are only after one thing!" Similarly, at some point during a family gathering you will be pulled aside and told, "Have I got a girl for you!" When this happens, *don't* say: A. "Does she do windows?" B. "You mean a real girl?" or C. "Thanks. I got over that years ago." Instead, *do* say: A. "Great! I've been looking for someone to take out sky diving!" B. "Terrific! She can help me do my taxes on my nifty new home computer!" or C. "You don't think she minds herpes, do you?" At some point dinner will be served. You must keep in mind that this is not dining as you have come to appreciate it, but rather an atavistic throwback to your adolescence, when you had to be kept on a 22,000-calorie-a-day diet lest you fail to achieve your full growth. Remember that certain comments will not be viewed with amusement, chief among them: "I'll just have some quiche and a small salad." When your plate is being heaped with turkey, stuffing, candied yams, three or four dinner rolls, and you're asked if you want gravy on your mashed potatoes, do not under any circumstances: A. Gag, B. Say you'll just have hot Crisco instead, or C. Say you just had bypass surgery on your stomach. Instead, smile sweetly, take the entire heap of food, and taste everything, keeping in mind that: A. Bowser is waiting under the table, B. You've been seated next to 300-pound Aunt Madge, who picks, and C. You're going to need all your strength. Remember, too, that you'll be expected to praise the cooking with appropriate remarks. These do not include, "Oooh, how novelle!" or "Julia Child, eat your heart out!" And when it's time for dessert and they hand you the apple pie with vanilla ice cream, try not to exclaim, "What! No rum raisin?" The advantage to finally sitting down to eat is that there is so much food that conversation is mercifully minimal, at least during firsts and seconds. The disadvantage is that, come thirds and fourths, there are so many people crammed so tightly together that there's no escape from the table talk. Keep reminding yourself where you are. When they talk about opera, it is soap, not grand; when they mention Sutherland, it is at best Donald, not Joan or the Queen in "Dancer from the Dance." One helpful technique is to keep a translation table mentally at hand. Thus, when unfamiliar topics are under discussion, you can easily discern the equivalent topic within your own frame of reference. The flowing table may be helpful: Straight Gay marriages relationships babies housepets buying a home rehabbing the tube cable movies films dinner theatre dinner and theatre romance novels beach reading alcohol controlled substances sports dancing Of course, there are always unforeseen incidents. At any given moment during dinner, for example, you may be reaching forward helpfully to pass the butter, when your mother will suddenly let out a bloodcurdling shriek and rumble face first into her cranberry sauce. The cause of her collapse will prove to be an unintended glimpse of your brand new tattoo. (Perhaps your shirt material was a tad too sheer, or maybe you forgot and wore short sleeves.) You will suddenly be surrounded by aunts wearing accusatory frowns and bewildered uncles trying to remember just when you were in the service. Situations like this require quick reflexes. You are advised in any case to have a reedy supply of all-purpose explanations for behaviors that may strike your family as strange or downright repulsive. Consider these possibilities: A. "It's one of those temporary ones, it washes right off," B. "Everyone in New York is getting them, even my girlfriend," or C. "Gee, I got so drunk with the guys one night..." If, however, your tattoo consists of an arrow piercing a heart bearing the name "Ralph," you're on your own. Once dinner is completed you are, as they say, home free. Resist the temptation to clear the entire table at one swoop -- they will be only momentarily impressed by the skills you acquired as a waiter in a chic bistro. And when the men all troop off to the TV room to watch the ball game, try not to whine or sulk if you're not allowed to stay and help with the dishes. Be not afraid. Go to the TV room and take your rightful place, stretched out among the men of your clan. Scratch your belly freely. Belch at will. And fall quickly asleep. This will prevent anyone from learning that you have no idea what a field goal or a touchback is. No need to slip yourself a quaalude to assure slumber; the conversation will take care of that. If at all possible, snore. Soon the ordeal of the family dinner will be over. The visit itself will quickly follow suit. Before long you will again be comfortably ensconced within the bosom of your cozy inner city apartment. Get on the phone immediately to all your friends, letting them know that you made it back alive. Offer to come over to listen to their holiday horror stories, but warn them that you have at least a few of your own. Swear to yourself to get right back to the gym and work off that turkey stuffing. And congratulate yourself on another successful expedition into the savage heartlands of America's primitive interior. Lewis and Clark couldn't have done it with any more style. But before you're out the door, meeting your friends for just a little drinkie or two, give yourself a small reward. Something to calm your nerves and bring you back to yourself. A nice piece of quiche, maybe. Or maybe some rum raisin. You've earned it.