we picked up the texans at o'hare. the change was most noticable in my little nephew.

i've collected his depictions of the local flaura and fauna from the very moment that he began to make them. when he lived in illinois, the prairie state, i pinned his renderings of bunnies, squirrels, and flowers on my board. now he sends drawings of gila monsters and armadillos. he sings too: "texas, my texas..." his mother, my sister #1, wore a red holiday sweater, with matching red holiday socks. her husband works for ibm. the family is republican.

we were all stuck together, in a small car, in airport traffic. my mother was along for the ride; she started to nag. i knew that i was about to crack under the stress, and so i broke out the glove. an old, small pair lay hidden under the dash, for use in tire changes - or other emergencies. this was an, "other emergency."

i put one of the gloves on my left hand; and then used a bic pen to draw eyes on it. my mother's hat finished the impromptu puppet's costume.

as i moved my thumb like a jawbone, the gloved hand proceeded to speak as my mother spoke. and everyone laughed, at first. but by the time that we had reached our destination the glove was complaining that it only had one grandchild. and only my little nephew was still laughing.

sister #2 rolled in the driveway behind the wheel of a used honda. three bumper-stickers were on the back: (1) lesbian cowboy; (2) kerry-edwards 2004; (3) amnesty international. she wore a festive jet-black t-shirt that she bought at a north side thrift store, with a long-sleeved lilac-purple t-shirt underneath. she was going to cook something, and she wanted everyone to give her room to do it. so she stuck her arms out, and traced a geometric figure in space. "ok, umm, this is my triangle. everyone stay out, ok?"

i pulled the gloves out, again, and made a face on the right one too. and then the left "mother" glove argued, in a severe tone, with the right glove - which, oddly enough, sounded like a hippie "daughter." sister #2 almost wet her pants. my little nephew had enough, and he drew a picture of rockets with the letters "U.S.A." destroying the talking gloves. this is the way that six-year-olds solve problems.

the following day, sister #1 and i had a huge fight; she left in a huff. the day after that, sister #2 and i traded back rubs. and everything was sort of ok, again. sister #2 is leaving for ny, ny in the morning. she told me about the time that she spent at rockaway beach. and i thought of the ramones show, and cabaret metro. tonight i reflect on the presents: the gift certificate from sister #1, and the vietnamese ceramics from the mennonite project for third world artisans that sister #2 gave me.

pensive, drinking wine with rousseau and black flag's slip it in - still so much a child of the 80s, in my straight leg, high-waisted levis - i find it hard to believe that we came from the same womb and home.

i see in my own family - as if it weren't obvious - so many of the same divisions that i see in my country around me. and the thing that i don't see - in the big picture, or in the little picture - is some way of talking and laughing and bringing everyone together. i would like to see that especially because, maybe the first time, i would really like to have children. [hi mom. no, it's not the glove at the keyboard. it's really me: paul.] it seemed like every card this year included a picture of some friend's or relative's child. and they're all up on the bulletin board behind me, along with my nephew's drawings - ringing like so many biological alarm clocks or salvation army bells, whichever. i'm just tired of the holidays, and the politics, and the war, and the waste, and the competition, and the deception, and the same damn thing over-and-over again. i hope for a happy new year, for everyone.