The long Thanksgiving holiday weekend is an occasion for time-honored traditions around the Rosen household. Family-style Thanksgiving dinner (with a menu whose depth and breadth could feed an army - apparently leftovers is Italy's gift to American culture). After dinner games that serve as a non-alcoholic version of the digestivo ("Chow Crown" - nuff said). Black Friday shopping for Angie and the Rosenettes (the best deals happen at 5AM - so I am told). Discovering a new classic holiday movie (Kurt Russell actually works as Santa Claus - with a surprise ending). Putting up the tree (the official artificial one in the family room - not the real live "Wizard of Oz" themed one in the living room). And though it may seem outgrown or mercenary, the sharing of everyones’ Gift Wish Lists is among the most cherished (a tinge of practicality to support an otherwise spontaneous expression).
Admittedly, I'm one of those annoying dads who annually proclaims; "I don't need anything this year" (code for: we spend too much money). Or else I'll seasonally offer up: "All I want is world peace" - still kind of holding out hope for that one. Of course, what loyal Twins fan wouldn't wish for a lights-out, left-handed, Cy Young caliber starter? And I keep waiting to be surprised with that pony that I have been asking for for several decades - guess that's not going to happen either. Under my circumstances, I suppose I should be putting things on my List like: "I wish I never had cancer'" or "I wish there was a cure for Multiple Myeloma" or "I wish I didn't have to take Revlimid anymore" or similar more targeted, self-serving requests. Don't get me wrong, it's not that I'm necessarily some noble Nathan, it's just that I don't feel like my life has been impacted to the degree that I need to petition to the great St. Nicholas to wish this away.
Sure, there were moments (many moments) that I wouldn't want to repeat. And there are aspects of my recent medical past that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy (as they say). But now that I'm here and that's all behind me, the impact of my disease has diminished to a point of manageability which has allowed life to return to a semblance of normal (see holiday traditions listed above which were celebrated yet again this year) and it's not something I need to singularly prioritize on my Gift List. And that's a fortunate thing, a very fortunate thing - especially because it allows more room on MY list for that pony.
