Thanksgiving was bittersweet...

...at our house yesterday. I'd say more sweet than bitter, but bittersweet nonetheless. Somebody recorded "The Royal Tenenbaums," and I watched bits and pieces of it throughout the day. (By the way, if you haven't seen it, you really should. I didn't "get" it the first time I saw it, but each time I watch it I appreciate it more and more. It's quirky, but the characters and dialogue are really clever. Oh, and the soundtrack is outstanding.)

Just before I went to bed, I watched the last scene of the movie which includes the family patriarch's death and funeral. The movie closes with Van Morrison's "Everyone," and it was fitting. As the song starts up, the camera focuses on the priest's confused look as he considers the epitaph on Royal Tenenbaum's gravestone:

                   DIED TRAGICALLY RESCUING HIS
                FAMILY FROM THE WRECKAGE OF A
                 DESTROYED SINKING BATTLESHIP

That's not at all how the father (Gene Hackman) died, of course, at least not literally. But figuratively, yeah, it couldn't be more accurate. In the movie, the father leaves the family, the kids all suffer and then he comes back to try to salvage -- successfully, for the most part -- the mess he'd made. And I thought, aren't all parents forever trying to save whatever it is in the family that needs saving? And I went to bed thinking about all that our family has been through in the last year -- and last 24, for that matter -- and how we're all still standing. And for that I give thanks.

The day began with my wife and me picking up our younger son from his new residential therapeutic school in Hyde Park. It was his first time home in about two months and we were all a little nervous. It was a little strange to see him descend the staircase with a suitcase and a backpack.

What's he got all that for; doesn't he realize he isn't spending the night?

But we did okay, I guess, and ended up having one of his friends over for the day. Nate's a nice kid but at one point at dinner he said that he was glad John was no longer at his old high school, because "no one knew him there," and, what's more, "no one even knew he was gone." Now you have to understand Nate; he's mildly autistic himself and didn't mean that the way it sounded. I took it to mean that John's old school was really large and impersonal and he's better off in a different environment. Still, it stung a little.

After dinner, we Skyped John's older brother, Joe, at six o'clock as scheduled. Joe is studying in Paris for the semester and went out to dinner with some friends from school and a friend's mother. Fortunately, they found a restaurant in Paris that served a traditional American-style Thanksgiving dinner complete with turkey and all the trimmings. Joe even said it was the best Thanksgiving meal he'd ever had. (Again with the stinging.) But I'm actually glad it turned out well for him; I was a little worried about his being so far from home at this time of year.

But it was John's turn on the Skype that was most touching. The two brothers hadn't spoken in at least two months and I guess I didn't realize how close they were. John really misses Joe and Joe has always been a great older brother to him. Although my wife and I tried not to eavesdrop (at least I did, although I couldn't if I wanted to, due to my bad hearing), we heard some tender words that reminded me of another scene near the end of "The Royal Tenenbaums" (At around :50 of this clip.):

Chas (Ben Stiller), to his dad: "I've had a rough year."

Royal: "I know you have."

After saying goodbye to Joe (he's off to Barcelona today -- la-di-da, la-di-da) we got ready to take John back to school. My wife couldn't bear to make the drive -- it was just too painful -- so John and I loaded up his things for the trip. We were both quiet on the ride back; all I could think of was how stoical John is. (He's really a trooper. But we're all troopers, aren't we, given all the pain we're subjected to?) As he sat in the passenger seat in his new down jacket -- looking like the Michelin Man -- staring straight ahead, I asked him, "Is this difficult for you, to go back tonight?"

"No," he replied. "Is it difficult for you?"

I didn't know what to say.

Or as Margot Tenenbaum (Gwyneth Paltrow) put it (in a different context), "I couldn't even begin to think about knowing how to answer that question."

We finally arrived at his school and brought all of his stuff up to the trademark yellow door. It was cold and dark and, for the first time, really felt like winter. We waited for what seemed like a long time before someone let us in. One of the young staffers finally appeared -- they're all young -- and I hugged my son and got back in the car for the drive home.

My wife and I talked briefly about the day when I got back. I told her to go to bed while I unwound with a "Seinfeld" episode before I turned in myself. (Coincidentally, it was the Festivus one.) But I watched the end of "The Royal Tenenbaums," too, and went to bed thinking about how appropriate the movie was for us this Thanksgiving.