Gay Paree (and will my father want to go?)

This is a short story. A very short story with no real point other than to make you love my family more. But, I hope it makes you chuckle, as its been nearly 10 years and I still laugh.

In Christmas 2003, I was home for the holidays from DC. While we were driving to my cousin's house, I decided to pop a fun CD I had brought for the car ride. It was just myself, my Dad and my Mom. In hindsight, it wasn't the most holiday-centric CD to listen to while wearing a Cosby sweater, but it's like I always say ... ("insert inspirational line here"). And it's true. I often tell people to insert an inspirational line - and they don't. Maybe if they did more often, I would have less funny stories. Hmm....



So, back to the story: I played a CD for my father titled "Paris Cafe." I thought it would be relaxing and jazzy. And since my father is seriously scary to drive with, "jazzy and relaxing" seem like a more "fun" choice than clutching the arm rest and hoping I won't see the ghosts of Christmas Past. (Wink!)



Anyways, Dad didn't like the choice. I believe his exact words were, "This is Christmas. Can't we listen to something more Christmasy?" By the way, good folks, Christmasy is a word.

Dad was a humble sport. He tried. I think I got 3 songs out of him before Jingle Bell Rock was thrust upon us all. (Don't get me wrong. I frakkin' love Jingle Bell Rock. I mean, I can practically see the silver tinsel tree when I hear that song. I always picture drunken 1950s types dancing around in poodle skirts and cigarettes. Ah, Christmas!)

As for me, I was merely trying to bring something new into all of our lives. And my Mom is 100% French (Canadian) so I was also trying to appeal to her native instincts.

Fun fact about Mom: she thinks she is 100% Irish.
God bless us both, but I also think I'm 100% Irish.
Blarney!

The point is: Paree on Le Eve de Christmas did not go over well.

So, we laughed about it (Mom laughed, too) and we listened to some other fun music. We all happily climb over to my cousin's house, who for the sake of the blog I will call Maureen. (Because that's her name.)

Every year, one of my five "Parker Girl" cousins will host Christmas Eve for the Parker side. There is always cold shrimp and I always eat my weight in it. Also, there is wine. And I am a happy, happy camper. Plus, my cousins are there. They are a good 10 years older than me, but since I was probably 17, I have felt like were we all just a few years apart. My wishful thinking or theirs? You be the judge! (Probably my wishful thinking because they are awesome.) The point is: I have 5 female cousins. Their houses rotate each year for the party. And it can be hard to remember who's house you were at and on which year it was. Especially if you got buzzed and stuffed off wine and shrimp.

By the way - Good Hosting Tip #73: Wine and shrimp, and then something chocolate based  anything for dessert = amazing!  And ... you are welcome!!!

Back to the story: I was settling down nicely into my plate of shrimp and my goblet of wine (probably and  realistically a plastic cup, but a goblet makes me seem regal and alcoholic in this story). So, I was nice and happy. And if I haven't said yet - being around the cousins also make me happy.

I was home and hadn't seen everyone (parents included) in a really long time because I was living in DC. So, I was grinning ear to ear most likely - and I have big ears!

And then the presents came!

And, of course, by sheer nature, my Dad had to get a CD.

Oh, you could see his Cheshire cat grin a mile away!

God, I love this man. He makes me laugh. You can know what he's thinking when he's got a good joke. So, in addition to my shrimp and wine smile plastered on my face, I had a smile from the knowledge that a good zinger was headed my way.

Side note - I don't often like getting my head handed to me, but when you zing me - and it's good (not hurtful), I do kind of love it.

So, yes, Dad had a zinger.

"Thanks!," he said to the present giver. "We will definitely be listening to this CD in the car ride home. AND NOT THAT GAY PAREE CRAP YOU MADE ME LISTEN TO!," he said, while pointing at me.

Dad unfortunately doesn't always understand the key element in talking, which is: TONE. While making a joke, he YELLED. And POINTED. At me - his son - the only bleeping gay dude in the room.

And every one - EVERY ONE - didn't get the joke. All of my five female cousins LITERALLY and AUDIBLY gasped. I believe one cousin grabbed my shoulder as if to protect me.

I cracked up, of course (probably choking on shrimp) because it was hysterical on so many levels.

I was - first off - so impressed by how my Dad managed to tackle the comedy of it all. I knew the second he got a CD that - oh yeah - I'd be hearing about this one. My Dad and I have always appreciated humor. In some ways, he taught me how to be funny. (I naturally have surpassed the teacher.)

Instead of setting up a joke for his audience, Dad went right to the semi-biggotted punchline. Surprisingly, though, I enjoy bigotry when used correctly in the context of comedy, because if you can't laugh at yourself than you might as well pack up shop and call it in. You have to laugh at the irony of a gay dude putting on a "gay" Paris CD for his Dad on Christmas. I mean, come on - this is funny stuff, friends! And yep, I do these kinds of things all the time! And without sensing the irony at all. Or the fact that it's really awesome, also.



Secondly, I was so completely touched that I had 5 family members ready to defend me in the heart of a holiday. I could tell that - oh yes! - this would be the uncomfortable meltdown of the Parker family. Family member against family member. Defending equality and love! My cousins were ready to go to bat for me and calm my father off the ledge of being so heterosexual. "Accept your son already, Dad," they said to no one.

And lastly, I laughed so hard because Dad was so fine with my being gay. He loves the hell out of me. Need proof? He bought me Christmas presents that he probably doesn't like or use, but I do. He goes 45 minutes to the nearest Trader Joe's to buy me a gift card for Christmas. He doesn't like to drive far. 45 minutes is like practically Paris, France to my parents. They gas up the tank and bring supplies with them before they go. They do this only once a year for presents. When people do that kind of thing, it's definitely love.

So, I am pretty sure tears were dripping down my face and probably into my wine goblet.



The reason why I remember it was Maureen's house was because she has a really big wide open kitchen and breakfast area and a lot of people were all around naturally. I remember she was standing next to me, and I had to grab her and say it was ok (while probably chewing shrimp and laughing and crying). "Dad's ok with me being gay. We listened to a CD on the way here. He's just joking."

The cousins were skeptical. Clearly, I had "battered housewife syndrome" and was trying to pacify the situation, their eyes seemed to say. One cousin may have implied this, also.

Eventually, they came around to believing us and we all had a good laugh.

On a final note, it's all true. The country of France has yet to allow Dad into their country. Word of this story leaked, and an international incident occurred. Which suits Mom just fine because in 2010 they went to Ireland. Her French heart did a little jig. And her Frog legs might have also danced a jig, also.

Uh oh. I called her French legs = Frog legs. I guess both Dad and I won't be seeing the "gay" sights anytime soon now.

Le sigh....

Love,
The Gay Dude on Christmas