Guys, I'm Eating Junk and Watching Rubbish!

The whole world is living the holiday classic, “Home Alone” this year.

“There are 15 people in this house and you’re the only one who has to make trouble,” Kevin McCallister’s mother Kate tells him while she marches him up to the family’s attic spare room, after he acts out responding to his big brother’s taunts.

Perhaps like me, you’ve been there.

I heard similar declarations from my mom. My seven siblings and I were born within a tight 10 year period. We teased, taunted, retaliated—and played with, and fiercely protected each other from outside dangers—as we grew up in the 60s. That familiar dynamic is a reason I enjoy the holiday classic “Home Alone.”

In the movie, writer John Hughes and director Chris Columbus tell the fictional story of our hero, Kevin, who is inadvertently yanked from his normal life as baby of the family, and left home in Chicago to grow up and fend for himself while the rest of the McCallisters fly to Paris for Christmas.

This holiday season, I can't help thinking we are all like eight-year-old Kevin who must defend ourselves, our home, and our loved ones from danger. Unlike the movie’s bungling burglars who pose a threat to Kevin, our real-life peril comes from Covid-19, and it lurks everywhere and yet can’t be seen.

Covid-19 has entered my family and extended family at least nine times this year, and unlike the children's comedy, tragically, we haven't always defeated the virus.

We lost my dear Aunt Marjorie to the virus two weeks ago. Only a few weeks before that my brother Larry’s vibrant mother-in-law Camilla succumbed to it. A couple of weeks before that, my brother Jon’s sweet mother-in-law JoJo passed from Alzheimer’s in her nursing home.

Our family is reeling like so many of you. We are shocked. Sad. Angry. Confused. Scared. Defeated. We are also sharing and enjoying memories of our loved ones. We are feeling and seeing what meaningful, lovely marks they left in this world and on us.

I also give thanks to the courageous, exhausted caregivers. You are heroes. I believe and give thanks that the vaccinations that have begun will tamp down the viral monster and give you a much needed break.

Still, it’s too late for the more than 300,000 Americans and family members, like Margie, Camilla and Joanne. If you have lost a love one or ones to the virus or to something else, I extend my heartfelt condolences.

I hope you know that you are not alone. Ironically, as we stay home, wear masks, and wash our hands, we are together in this battle, and we will get through it.

And if you find that, like Kevin, you are eating junk and watching rubbish, I hope you cut yourself a break. Call someone. Zoom. Write. Reflect. Cry. Laugh. Hum. Mourn and celebrate the loved ones who went too soon, and those here that you will see soon again.

You are not alone. We will get through this.

Judi Stoa’s Donchyaknow Life Lessons to see and bring out the best in yourself and others

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