Christmas Woes

Once again, I have been smited by my parents.

I fail to understand why they get so upset by a family reunion.

And the fact that I'm not coming to it.

I let my son go with them. I'm not a complete bastard.

Let me explain how these family reunions work, or this particular one.

1. It's held every year, usually 2 weeks prior to Christmas.
2. My grandmother's siblings and their kids and their kids' kids, and so on, and so forth, ad nauseum, show up to this thing.
3. The only people there who know each other at this point are my grandmother and her siblings, and their kids. I lost track of who is who a long time ago.
4. There are some reasonable things, like about $1,000.00 is collected for a selected needy family.
5. All that happens is: We eat, the friendlier people say hello to one another, and my immediate family (whom I see ALL the time) stick to their side of the room, talking, and the other side of the family sticks to their side of the room, talking. Only my grandmother and her brothers make the rounds to talk to the 'other' side. It is nothing more than a lame social gathering/free meal at best.
6. Most of my family are under the social/intelligence ladder, so I don't like to be associated with them in most public situations anyway. In English, they are white trash (except my parents, and my uncle, who also disassociates himself from the rest of my grandmother's kids). And I KNOW my family is viewed as inferior by the other sides of the family, so I don't like being seen with them anyway.
7. The reunions have also always been a chance for both sides to display their spawn like livestock. I'm 32 years old, I have no reason to prove anything to anyone. I show up because I feel like it, not because I want people to see how healthy/sick fat/skinny stupid/intelligent I have become in the last year.

And here's the funniest part. With the exception of maybe 2 times throughout my entire childhood through about 16 years of age, my father would NEVER show up to these things. I was taken by my grandmother. I only wanted to go because my cousins were going ... kid thing. But Dad always sat it out.

Over the last 15 years, he's become more gung-ho about it than anyone else I know, save my grandmother. Every year we go through the same stupid ritual if I don't go. He throws me off on some guilt trip. Or, he tries. I fail to understand why he becomes so offended by it.

I personally just don't care one way or the other. I let my son go with them if he says he would like to go, and if they ask me to let him go, in that order.

Oh, and on the rare occassion that my son doesn't go (like last year, I took him down to Palestine, TX to ride the Christmas Train, and we had a lot more fun), he will go apeshit ballistic.

I swear, if I make it to being an old fart, I will do my very best not to riddle people with guilt just because they don't show up to some insipid gathering. The thing is, I wouldn't dread these things so much if my father and grandmother would just STFU about them. But they've spent all this time building up such a legendary tale about me and the fact that I don't show, that if and when I DO show to these things (which is about once every 2 years) the second I set foot in the door my entire immediate family, my grandmother especially will chime in like a chorus from the pit of hell: "OHHHH look who decided to show up." And it's not an affectionate chiding. It's downright hateful. You have to imagine it said in a 1970s/80s Conway Twitty, Texas redneck accent by someone who's just itching to pull out his Colt revolver and git' that snake. /grumble

As with all things, the old phrase "I shape my own destiny" applies here, to me. But you know, one can only take being persecuted because he/she is a homebody for so long. Any other day of the year, my parents are, too. Hypocrites.