Sunday nights seem to be the hardest in Judiland. After all the dishes are cleared from the table and the only sound in the house is that of the dishwasher running--a new brand of loneliness sets in. It's different than the loneliness I feel each night walking into an empty house and it's different than the loneliness of waking up in an empty house each morning. There's a certain depth, a deeper ache, to the loneliness of Sunday nights.
When I was growing up, we played cards every Sunday night with my Papa Dip. All of my aunts and uncles and cousins would gather around the dining room table with their three nickels for a spirited game of Scat. Then, once Papa either won the whole pot or got pissed that he didn't, it would be time for some kind of dessert. It was a comforting time in my life--one that I remember with great fondness. At the time, Sunday nights were meant for family and fun. Perhaps because of my youth--I didn't see it as a prelude to Monday. But, as the years went by and those Sunday nights became a thing of the past, Sunday night took on an entirely different meaning--it meant that the next day was Monday. And nobody liked Mondays. Were Mondays always so bad? It never seemed that way on those Sunday nights playing Scat.
Last night, after the kids left to go back to PhDland and Collegeland, I busied myself by cleaning off the dining room table. As I was folding the special birthday table cloth to put away, I thought of those Scat games all those years ago--around another dining room table...filled with smiling faces and laughter. Papa sitting at the head of the table smoking his cigar, wearing a grey vest over a plaid shirt. My mother--to his right--smoking her Kent cigarette, drinking her Tab, her red hair in a beehive--pretending to look at his cards. My Aunt Congie nervously tapping her finger while yelling at my cousin Bobby who was once again doing something mischievious. My Aunt Marg lecturing my Uncle Lou about how he was playing cards and Uncle Danny making duck noises with a Lucky Strike hanging out of the corner of his mouth. Could I have ever known that 40 some years later---I'd find the pain of missing those days so much that I could barely stand? As I slid into a chair to take in the memories, I couldn't help but wonder-- was it a much simpler time then or did the ritual itself make it simple?
That's when it hit me---I need a Sunday night ritual. Something to look forward to. It can be as simple as playing Scrabble with a friend, arranging to meet a friend for tea or as involved as starting a Sunday night supper club.
A ritual to comfort me.
I've got all week to think about it.....
Ideas welcome.
5 comments:
Oh Judi, that memory sounds wonderful....yes, we need to start making our new ones. My life will be changing too, so I will have new routines also.
Sunday night games sounds like a good idea...maybe a way to get Carmen to calm down. Turn off the beepers (if you can), cell phones, TV, etc., put on some nice music and find a game to play so you can laugh again with your hubby!!
Yeah, I hate Sunday nights too!!
Jill from NY
Those were happier times for sure. I remember the family gathered around playing pinochle drinking whiskey sours and high balls. Maybe are older relatives were more thankful for what they had. A steady job with a roof over your head and a station wagon in the driveway was heaven.
I like your idea. I'll be thinking about it!
Jody
I almost felt like I was back in time sitting at the table with your family while I read that post. I hope you come up with some good ideas to keep Sunday night a fun time instead of the dreaded night before Monday. I always felt a heaviness Sunday nights when I was working too.
I'm far from my childhood home and relatives and I miss the rituals of our times together, too.
For us it was always Fridays, end of the week, getting together to celebrate. In the summer we'd have BBQs and nights of marco polo in the pool. In the winter the adults would pop a movie into the TV for us kids and we'd join them occasionally as they sat around the dining room table, drinking G&T's and listen in on their adult stories.
Oh Judi, my childhood memories are almost identical! We all played cards (Euchre or poker) at my grandmothers house on Sunday nights I can still see her house and the way it lit up at night. We would all have a baked dinner for a late lunch and my aunty (who worked in a pub) would bring out all of her one and two cent coin tip jars and we would play all night. Brilliant times! Unfortunately my mother has never been the domesticated entertainer type of grandmother so the special and sunday occaisions died with my grandmother. I have suffered many a sunday night and special occaision depression despite trying desperately to recreate traditions. Its only been in the past year that I have been able to let go of the painful nostalgia and realise that any occaision can be special and its up to us to make it that way. However, despite the fact that I dont technically 'go to work" on a Monday Sundays can be very depressing and I wish you all the best in finding that special Sunday ritual - I think I'll go find one myself!
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