A Moveable Feast

Wow! It’s been a hot minute since I blogged here at Observations of an Okie! But with all life’s ups and downs, twists and turns, I’ve had to make decisions on where I expend my energy. I plan to post all about my non-photography trials and tribulations at some point, but we all know how I am when I promise to post on a subject soon, lol.

When I left Brussels, my best friend gifted me with a copy of Ernest Hemingway’s memoir, “A Moveable Feast.” I finally read it this past November (6 years later!), and was struck more by the title, and the concepts behind “moveable feast,” than the book itself – though it’s an interesting peek into the mind of a famous writer and the things he deemed important to record for posterity.

The official and initial definition of a movable feast (original, correct spelling) according to Merriam-Webster Dictionary is: “A religious festival that occurs on a different date each year.” Examples are Easter and Passover.

Over the years, however, the term has come to mean something more – something that I inherently understand but struggle to define. Hopefully I will be able to explain what it means to me and how it applies to so much of my life by the end of this blog post.

It turns out that the title of Hemingway’s was chosen posthumously by his editors and widow, Mary Hemingway. It was based on a note he sent a to an unnamed friend and read: “If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.” I would say that regardless of the amount of time some of us have spent in Paris, and despite some of its glaring flaws (stinky, crowded, criminal activity, big city French attitudes), some of us are enamored with the city, its history, its art and even those things which turn off those who do not understand that the flaws are as much an integral part of its character as its glimmering attractions. The pros and cons of Paris, as well as a discussion of not-to-miss attractions could fill countless blog posts. But this is a post about the moveable feast!

For the first 15 or so years of my life, family gatherings were a fairly regular affair, on appointed days and regular times. Each Sunday morning we went to my maternal grandparents’ house and each Sunday evening was spent at my paternal grandparents’. Holidays were mostly fixed affairs. Christmas Eve was spent at my Grandma and Grandpa Coble’s house. And Christmas day was spent with my mother’s family. Other holidays were less fixed, but there was some continuity in the way things were done from year to year. As time marched on, with some family members passing, changing the family dynamics, I felt the rigidity of family celebrations start to change.

During my sophomore year of high school I moved with my mother, stepfather and little brother to Connecticut, leaving behind for the first time my extended family in Oklahoma. We found a house right before Christmas and before the moving company could deliver our household shipment. We bought a skillet and some meager supplies and fashioned a makeshift, non-traditional Christmas meal, seated on the floor around a cardboard box for a table. Rather than being upset, I was acutely aware of this special time with one section of my family and it went down as one of the best holidays we experienced, even though things were sparse. That was my first experience with what could be called a moveable feast. Though we were in a strange land, far away from family and familiar traditions, we were together, bonding over our excitement and fear of forging ahead in a new place and it was more than enough for us in that moment.

Fast forward many years later, after the loss of my father, my grandmother’s stroke and eventual death, the birth of my daughters, my marriage, and our subsequent entry in the US Foreign Service and moves overseas, and so much had changed. I was close to my family, so even though I was adventure ready, I took leaving each time pretty hard. Holidays were spent in exotic locations, but always done full on. I was intent on giving my girls as close to the experiences that made my childhood holidays special as I could. And in the process, new traditions were made with the old. But no matter where we were, we were together and that was most important. Holidays for us, whether we were in the US, Zambia, Haiti, Mongolia, New Zealand, or Belgium, were moveable feasts to be enjoyed as fully as possible because we were together learning new things and sharing our traditions with new friends.

Fast forward to the present day and we find ourselves even more scattered. The girls have long since graduated and fled the nest, as have my brothers, with jobs with varying degrees of freedom to take off for the holidays, and new spouses with their own holiday needs to fulfill. My mom and stepdad have created their retirement space in Tennessee, just out of reach of a day trip. With all this and our last years in the Foreign service, getting us all together for the holidays is nigh impossible. But sometimes we are able to delay by a day or a week. Or we make time to gather at some point in the middle of summer when everyone can make it work. In this way, we make our own family holidays wherever we are and whenever we can. This is one of the things that makes my family so special to me. For the most part there are no hard feelings if holiday celebrations are missed while trying to make our lives work. We know that at some point we will get together and the love will flow just as much in May or August as it does in November or December.

For the last several years my mother and second dad have hosted Thanksgiving at their farm in Tennessee. As a rule, we usually chose not to travel from overseas for this holiday, and it was 50/50 whether we celebrated at all. The international schools were usually still in session and it didn’t make sense to go all out for food that the girls were not that into twice in the space of a month (Thanksgiving and Christmas). When the girls were in college we could bring them home for the Christmas break, so Thanksgiving was a great time to see their grandparents and bond with whichever of my brothers were around that time of year. It also allowed them to get to know my sister in law and new nieces, forging new bonds and creating great holiday memories. Even though I couldn’t join them I was so thankful they had this time with my family.

This year my husband surprised me by asking if I wanted to go to my mom’s for Thanksgiving. My youngest brother was coming home from Taiwan after a couple of years of teaching English, and I’d received word that my oldest brother and our childhood friend were going to be there as well. It would be the first time in several years that my three brothers and I would be in the same place. So I decided to keep it a secret from all but my daughters and daughter in law. When we pulled up the drive Thanksgiving morning there were happy tears and a memorable reunion. We were missing my youngest daughter, my niece, and my stepsisters, but it was still an amazing holiday. My husband and I finished up our weekend with a trip back to our homebase in Eureka Springs to see our youngest before her two month long trip to New Zealand to attend her best friend’s wedding. It was the most perfect Thanksgiving holiday weekend I could have asked for and I am grateful for all the work my husband put into it to make it all happen.

The main point though, is that any time with my family (all branches!) is a moveable feast. We make the most of the time we have together and we are grateful for those moments. We share our lives and the goodies we discover in our travels (or those traditional ones we miss while out living our lives). We love completely no matter the time of year and say our goodbyes knowing that we will have more to share the next time we gather for the next moveable feast.

My second revelation with the concept of a moveable feast is that it describes our lives in the US Foreign Service so well. I will reflect on that in more depth later!

In the meantime, enjoy this series of failed selfie attempts by my youngest daughter and I!