The holidays are here. My parents have been gone for a while now. Paw nearly a decade longer than maw. Many miss their parents during the holidays, including my sister. I, on the other hand, feel some guilt for not missing them—well perhaps not as much as I should. I sort of feel some freedom.

Our parents were great. I mean it wasn’t like they abused us in any physical or deep psychological way--other than "fear of fear". They, as others would say, loved us in every way. Yet, as I am at the half century mark and the evening approaches in my life I do wrestle with emotions of their legacy.

My parents were constant worriers. I used to call them “The risk masters”. That was a title I called them because they made “risk” such a big part of the daily life. Why we need to keep a light on at night: “What happens if you get up in the middle of the night and bust your ass?”, as dad would say. You must have life insurance: “What happens if you die”? You must have car insurance: “What happens if the car is wrecked?” You must have house insurance: “What happens if the house burns down?” You must take a coat: “What happens if it rains?”: You must carry an emergency case in the trunk and carry AAA: “What happens if you break down?” You must have two deep freezers of food “What happens if dad lost his job?” Oh, and cabinet and shelves. Better stock up on canned goods lined up as far as the eye can see! Yeah, when you died we found some up to 10 years old.

Better always lock the door: “Someone may break in the house!”. When you get a job “Always have one with health insurance; what happens if you get sick?” You should always own a home: “What happens if the landlord wants to throw you out on the street? Where will you be then?” Oh, and let’s not forgot about being prompt: “You got to leave in enough time to arrive at least 15 minutes early—30 minutes is better! What happens if there is a traffic issue?”. Go to church: “What happens when you die? Do you want to go to Hell?”

Then there was the embarrassment issue: “You better dress up when you do go to church. What will others think?” You better take some money and throw it in the collection plate: “What would others think if you don’t put any money in the plate? Oh, my!” If dad gets some food to bring home: “Take a brown paper bag. We don’t want the neighbors to know I didn’t cook."

The list just goes on and on. The result: My sister married a man who is a horses’ ass most of the time. A miserable marriage, but hey no “divorce embarrassment”! Their daughters are a mess. Both “survivors of suicide”. One has a child and the other can’t—at least not emotionally. Me? Oh me? Yeah, I finally got married. She was too old to have kids by the time we married. She has two daughters from a previous marriage. I have failed at many things because I did them “half assed” out of fear. Two bankruptcies to my name. Hell, the last one had to be dismissed because it was such a mess I never moved more than two hours from my hometown. Oh, and owning a home? Yeah, I had a few, but now I just rent. Don’t know if I will own again. It is kind of liberating—take that!!

Happy holidays: from a child of parents where dad worked one job, mom stayed home, church going, survivors of the Great Depression and WWII—the “big one”.