True story.
1983.
I'm nineteen.
Opposites attract.
Me: Brown eyes; brown hair.
Her: Blue eyes; blue hair.
Me: Native New Yorker.
Her: Raised on a farm.
Met in Magic-Realist Lit class.
State University.
Dating only weeks.
She said "Come to family Christmas."
Instinct said no.
We left in the morning.
I am Jewish by birth.
Raised secular.
Not big on holidays.
Never been to family Christmas.
Beautiful drive.
I am the passenger.
Imagining bucolic.
Imagining Wonderful Life.
WASP fantasy.
Christmas brainwash.
Warm by the fireplace.
Golden Retriever.
Tree.
Stockings.
Bring presents.
Pie for the hostess.
Bottle for the host.
Upstate corner of New York.
Family farm.
Uncle's house.
Low-rent.
Not wonderful life.
Redneck pickup truck.
Cinderblocks.
Homemade furniture.
No books.
Fake wood paneling.
Cross on the wall.
Don't be provincial, I think.
Give it a chance.
My girlfriend: First in family to get past high school.
Her mother: Sweet homemaker.
Her father: Minister.
Her aunt: American Legion cook.
Her sister: Three kids; no dad.
Her brothers and father and uncle: Out hunting.
I stand in kitchen with the women.
Awkward, but polite.
Food: Great equalizer.
Men return from hunt.
Uncle: Pumps gas.
Guns; camouflage; orange clothes.
Testosterone.
Looks like an old rocker.
Long gray hair.
Earrings.
Cracks jokes.
Nice smile.
Give gifts.
Polite conversation.
Thin veil.
Christmas dinner.
Sit between uncle and father.
Hold hands.
Grace.
Smell gas on uncles hand.
Awkward conversation.
Start to drink.
Venison; first time; delicious.
Tomorrow, I'm going hunting.
Never shot gun.
"Easy," uncle says, "pull the trigger."
Me: Quaker school but obsessed with war.
G.I. Joe.
Prepared to go to 'Nam.
Uncle: "What's Quaker School?"
Try not to be political.
Uncle collects war memorabilia.
What kind?
"WW II. Mostly German."
Big collection downstairs.
"I'll show you after the meal."
Beautiful feast.
Understand a little.
Drink a lot.
Family; food; love.
Go to bathroom.
Investigate downstairs.
Insane.
Helmets; guns; grenades; daggers.
Medals; models; boots; gas masks.
Uniforms; dioramas; posters; flags.
Flags! Swastikas! Busts!
Hitler, Hitler, Hitler.
Back upstairs.
Upset.
Hold back anger.
"Impressive collection."
"Thanks."
"Germans misunderstood."
Another drink.
"Hitler not so bad."
"Oh, really."
"After lost war, he helped Germans."
Hitler?
I am drunk.
Losing it.
"Hitler was not so bad."
"He was evil."
"Propaganda. We know better now."
"And the Holocaust?"
"Exaggerated."
"Your collection is incomplete.
Missing skin lamps. Missing Jew soap."
Girlfriend: "I'm sorry, excuse him."
Don't excuse me.
I am drunk.
Girlfriend: "What's wrong with you?"
"He's a fucking liar!"
Father (minister): "Your language offensive!"
"Your brother offensive!"
Uncle: "Jew Bastard! Won't be staying in my house!"
Start to fight.
Punches.
I'm nineteen.
He's maybe fifty.
A lot of punches.
Minister separates.
Daughter ashamed.
Minister: "Everyone calm down."
Daughter cries.
Feel bad.
But not that bad.
Take back present; drink it.
I'm trapped.
New Yorker; don't drive.
Call taxi.
Say I'm sorry to girlfriend.
Reach out.
She stays seated with family.
Wait for taxi outside.
See breath.
Taxi.
Open door.
"Merry Christmas."
Stay in hotel.
Drink rest of present.
Trailways station hangover.
Bus ride.
Alone.
Then home.