I don’t have too much to say about 2011. Much like 2010 and the years preceding it there were highs that were celebrated and lows that were marched through.  I’m forever grateful to those who have been there for the victory laps around the peaks of each year. Even more so for those who manage to put up with me as I stubbornly used my face to whale away at the brickwalls lining the valleys. Regardless of whether or not I took your extended helping hand, I appreciated it more than you can possibly know.

I’ve always drawn a certain amount of strength from the constancy that family provides. Even if it’s true that you can’t go home again, you’ll always have family. If 2011 had one invaluable lesson it’s that regardless of locale, you define your family - blood or not. I moved to socal thinking I would move back after two years at the most. Two years turned into six with good reason. To each and every one of you who made it that much harder for me to move back up to the Bay - thank you. Thank you from the deepest part of that area somewhere between my heart and my soul.

You never really know where the winds will blow you with the coming of each year but it’s always comforting to know that regardless of where I end up - I’ve got family. Hopefully you’re also aware that in me you have the same. So on that note and in the spirit of the holiday season, I resurrect this old entry of mine (again) centered around my earliest definition of the word. Here’s to hoping that 2012 finds you surrounded by friends and family as ridiculously awesome as those I’m blessed to have.

Time to go watch Rambo or something and get my testosterone levels back at to an acceptable level. See you on the flip side.

-G

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my family was pretty far from “well-off” when i was younger. my mother made ends meet by running a licensed daycare center from our home and my father was a cook in the u.s. navy. as hard as it was, things would go from bad to worse when my father would have to leave for months on end for the WESTPAC tours leaving my mother with the unenviable task of taking care of four crazy kids.

i remember kids from school making fun of people who had to put things on lay-away. i never thought it was funny. lay-away was how my mother would get us our christmas gifts. even though i knew what i was getting several months ahead of time, it never killed the excitement for me. looking back it amazes me how far my mother and father would stretch an already strained budget just to give us a taste of the christmas everyone else had. i remember one christmas in particular when my father had just come home from one of his tours. my parents set up the old betamax on it’s tripod and started handing us our presents one at a time. we each had to read exactly what the label said clearly to the camera before we were allowed to open the present. we were all such antsy little runts.

we had no problems shredding through the meticulous wrapping work my mother had made. i can stretch my memory and imagination far enough that i can still see myself – bowl cut and all, in a striped dress shirt, jeans and small sneakers reaching out for my presents. i unwrapped the customary socks and shirts my mom had bought me, and started playing with the transformer knock-offs close family friends gave me. then my father pulled out another bag of presents for the four of us. my gift (and my sister’s) turned out to be a sony walkman. i had no idea what it was, but it looked cool enough, and when my dad got it working i listened to the radio a lot (i had no cassette tapes =) ). my two brothers got remote controlled jeeps (i was so incredibly jealous over how much bigger THEIR box was compared to mine). i can see my father holding my mother as they watched us get absorbed by the “newness” of everything.

i can see my father helping my sister put the batteries into her walkman. my mother telling my two brothers to stop running while they chased their jeeps around the living room. even pulled straight from memory you can almost feel how tangible the love was in that tiny room.

i wish i could go back and tell myself to go hug my father and mother tight and to tell them thank you over and over, for the sacrifices they made and the sacrifices they’ll keep making.as time has passed it feels like i’ve become somewhat of an enigma to my own parents. i still feel their love tiding over me, spilling through me and enveloping me in a warmth that knows no bounds – but i feel their concerns as well. they wonder if they’ve done enough to teach me, showed me enough to help me survive life and the various challenges i have yet to face, and they worry for me constantly. the shiny baubles of childhood so easily obtainable at toys r’ us can no longer guarantee them the instant happiness effect on me or my siblings.

and so i get more socks and shirts.

“for you to wear when you workout,” she says of some tank tops.

“because you need more dress socks for when you dress up,” she explains.

i’ve come to realize that it’s just their way of showing how they still want to be there to take care of us. in a weird way, my siblings and i always know exactly what to get them – everything they deprived themselves of to bring us up. tvs, an aquarium, bbq grill… it never seems like it’ll be enough to repay them for the things they did for us and still do for us. i’ll be going home soon and already i’m smiling like the little bowl cut headed shrimp in my memory. i see a living room much larger than before, kids much larger than before and parents watching over a room so filled with love you can touch it.