Nov 24, 2006
Another thanksgiving has come and gone, and the dear old turkey has been picked clean. And I didn't cook anything. I had some surgery, so I have been recuperating, and my soon to be daughter-in-law, did all the cooking. The first time she cooked a turkey, too. And it was a wonderful meal.
I always try to think of something to be thankful for on Thanksgiving, and of course I am thankful for my son, the roof I have over my head, the food I have to eat, the clothes on my back, my cats, and the few people I call friends. There are a lot of things this year that I find hard to accept, but I guess that's the case with everybody.
Nothing unpleasant happened either, DAMN. Growing up, there was always some big hoo-rah on Thanksgiving. Like the time my sisters, Linda and Annie decided to cook the turkey, and while taking it out of the oven, they dropped it, and it went skidding across the kitchen floor, like it was riding a skateboard. Of course we wiped it off, set it on the platter, and ate it anyway. We were poor, so we were not going to waste a perfectly good turkey just because it took a nosedive on the linoleum. Then there was the Thanksgiving that my brothers beautiful young bride, all of 16, she was, and married to my brother who was in the Navy, joined us in the family feast. I thought she was like a princess. My mother wanted to wring her neck when she found a hair in her mashed potatoes, and showed it to everyone. Or the time when we as a nation were morning the death of President Kennedy, and I watched my brother Melvin walk out to catch a ride into town, to catch the bus to Kentucky where he would start his army training. He would spend the next 3 years in and out of Viet Nam, and it would be years before he seemed like the Melvin we remembered. The Thanksgiving when my uncle died, the uncle who was a recluse, and didn't like anyone, and had a lot of money. How the members of the family suddenly realized how much they really loved him, until they saw his will.
As a young mother, I tried to establish our own traditions, fix the big turkey, and all the crap that goes with it, and then lay around like hogs for the rest of the day. Of course all the men were out deer hunting, so I usually spent the day alone. Which, in retrospect had its good points. God forbid they would actually kill a deer, and then bring it home, where we had to dress it out, cut it up, put it in the freezer and eat it. There is a fine art to cooking wild game, and after about 10 years I mastered it somewhat. We even had it for Thanksgiving one year. I fondly remember the young man who remarked, after tasting my turkey, how easy it would be to make jerky out of it. I guess it was a little tough.
But, all in all, I have been fortunate. No one got salmonella, or E-coli, but when I was pregnant the first time, I got sick of turkey, and couldn't eat it for years afterward.
And there is something to be thankful for each year. It may not seem like there is, but you just have to look for it. This year, it was a little tougher. I have my oldest son, and my basic needs met, but the losses have piled up, and holidays will never quite be the same. But we go on, we make new memories, and end up boring the shit out people when we share them. I wonder if the tribes of old, listening to the shamans recount stories and legends of past deeds, and adventures, ever said, "Damn, how many times is he going to tell this story?"
I hope that all of you had a decent Thanksgiving, and made a memory. Even if it was a pizza and a beer, hope it was tasty.