Thanksgiving is usually spent at my brother's and sister-in-law's house out in the boonies. It's always a fun time, with plenty of wine being passed around the table, an all too enormous Italian feast and plenty of joking and ribbing one another. Mostly my dad is the brunt of many of the jokes, especially now that he has finally broken down after so many years and accepted the fact that he's old and needed hearing aids. But he turns them down whenever there's too much conversation going on the the room and all he claims to hear are metalic echoes bouncing around inside his head.
This past Thanksgiving, I once again realized how old I actually was when my nephew and brother started a verbal exchange over when my nephew will be able to learn to drive. My brother's response: "When you're old enough to afford your own apartment."
Knowing the joking tone of his father's voice, my nephew replies: "Well how will I be able to find an apartment without a car?"
"Do what Uncle Chris does. Take the bus."
D'OH!!!!
* * *
(Jump ahead two weeks)...
Yesterday, I was invited back for Christmas dinner. With a new job beginning on December 26th and no more having to wake up at 3am in order to make it to work by 6 to open the gallery for after-Christmas returns (of which my place gets very little), I graciously accepted.
Since my brother lives out in the boonies close to the Pennsylvania/Delaware border, whenever I went out there for family get togethers, I would have to take the train out to my parents' house and then climb into the backseat of their Ford Explorer and ride with them, constently chanting from the back seat: "Are we there yet? Are we there yet?" (anything to consistently drive my folks batty).
This year, with training for my new job beginning the day after Christmas and having to travel over to Jersey for two weeks, I decided to rent a car for the duration instead of figuring out how many trains or buses I would need to take. So I'll have a car on Christmas day to go to my brother's place.
It suddenly dawned on me this morning (and I'm writing it down now on here, so I don't forget to actually go through with the plan) that, in all the times I've gone to Thanksgiving dinner over there, I was always tagging along in my parents' backseat. This time, I'll be taking my own transportation. What better way to get revenge on my brother's stab at my taking public transportation than to present my nephew with the ultimate gift?
That's right. While my neice opens her gift certificate or something and politely thanks her uncle for the gesture and my brother and his wife accept a bottle of wine and some foo-foo dessert, I will casually hand my nephew a key tied to a bow and say: "Your gift is in the driveway."
Sure, it'll be far-fetched, but I know my family, and I know that it'll take a few brief seconds to realize that it's just a joke. My nephew, on the other hand, being an overly anxious teenager on Christmas day, will surely bolt out of the kitchen, down the hall and outside to see what awaits him.
Merry Christmas from your Evil Uncle...
God, I love the gift giving season...
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