Day 247

I miss Dad badgering me about what he could give my son for Christmas. This is the time of year he’d start calling me and asking me to give him some gift ideas. My son has never been easy to shop for.  Books and Legos and “fancy clothes” — and that one year he wanted all things Star Wars followed by the year he wanted all things Harry Potter, those were the easiest years — are generally all he wants. But Dad always wanted to buy him more. He wanted his tree to be surrounded by gifts — from Santa — for his only grandchild. I never really knew what to tell him. Every year, I made a few suggestions but he wanted more. I’d be sitting at my desk writing in the middle of the afternoon and my phone would ring. Dad would be Costco calling to ask if he thought my son would like whatever toy he had come across. He was always excited, and I hated telling him that I didn’t think my son would be interested in something. When I did, I could feel his disappointment through the phone. Sometimes he sent me pictures asking me to pick out what I liked best from a serious of books, or clothes, or something else entirely. It drove me mad. But now my phone remains silent. There are no random texts of toys, no anticipation for the holiday. And I can’t believe how much I miss it. I want to be frustrated that I can’t come up with a better, more detailed list for him. I want to hear his excitement, his desire to make my son happy. I want to hear his voice. I want the excitement of seeing him soon.

This is also the time of year I used to make an annual collage for my parents, a collection of memories of the things they shared with my son throughout the year. Dad loved those collages. He looked forward to them every Christmas. I was too poor to buy my parents proper presents, so like a child I made them one instead. But this year there won’t be a collage. There will just be an empty space on the wall to represent the emptiness in our hearts.

Tonight, on the way home from taekwondo, my son asked if we could listen to the station playing Christmas music. I turned it on, but after the first few notes  — I don’t even remember what song it was — the lights in front of me blurred. Wiping away the tears, I had to change the station. I don’t want Christmas to come. I don’t want to face a happy day without the man who alway made it happy. My son was angry that I changed the channel. But I couldn’t drive safely crying as hard as I was.

Next week is Thanksgiving. Another day that used to bring happiness. I’m dreading the day so much that I wish I could go to sleep Wednesday night and simple wake up on Friday. If only I could quietly pass over the day.

As of today, more than a quarter million Americans are dead. I am not the only one dreading the holidays. Thousands of families are missing loved ones. The infection rate is approaching the levels we saw back in the fall, but this time around Governors seem hesitant to act. Governor Murphy is telling families they can’t gather in numbers greater than 10. But indoor dining is still open. As are gyms. And he has stated he won’t shut down schools. He’s abdicating responsibility so that he can make a run for reelection. Shut down the free babysitting and you won’t make many friends. The hell with the teachers. 

But seriously, if teachers are so vital to the economy, why do they get paid such shitty salaries. If you are telling me — as parents around the country are screaming as districts begin to close — that you can’t possibly go to work to earn your six figure salary without my spouse watching your kid, if you livelihood is based on my spouse’s service, then she, and every other teacher deserves a bigger cut of that salary. (Or if corporations are relying on teachers to provide free day care for their workforce then teachers deserve a cut of their profits as well.) But if you want to hoard it. If you don’t think teachers deserve better pay. If you are anti teacher when it comes to voting, then screw you. You should find your own babysitter and let my spouse and her colleagues work safely from home. Because she can teach remotely. She’s been doing it since March. But if you can’t do your job because she’s at home, then we need to change the dialogue in this country. We need to recognize that teachers are exceedingly valuable. And when something is valuable it shouldn’t come cheaply.