Thanksgiving is approaching.
I am cheering for Thanksgiving. It is the "forgotten" holiday lately.
Funny, I was never a fan of Thanksgiving. Not because I favor underdogs, but I am cheering on Thanksgiving.
No judgement here, want to put a tree up in July, your house, enjoy it.
But I just think we have kicked Thanksgiving to the curb.
When I was a young girl, it was without question, the worst holiday in our home. I have written about it several times. Trust me, we had so much to be thankful for but it was the day.
Thanksgiving was the ONLY holiday we spent with my dad's side of the family. We barely made it through that one day.
Here's the Reader's Digest version, our "step grandmother was a career woman (back when women her age were not), she NEVER stopped talking, she didn't like kids, she was not a homemaker, she was bitchy and she could not cook or bake.
Our other grandmother was funny as hell, was a fabulous baker and cook, (my great grandmother as well) loved kids, and her house was clean. Even though we ate in the basement at her house, the basement was immaculate.
My dad would leave the house early to "drive deer". In later years, he would take Todd with him.
If my mom said be home at 10am, they routinely would be home at 11:30am. This no doubt started a huge argument. Funny thing is, these were my dad's parents and even he didn't want to be there.
So the guys would get home late, have to shower and we would "be behind schedule". So ironic now looking back, and I will get to why it is ironic.
Then, on the twenty-minute drive to the grandparent's home, my dad would totally continue to push my mom over the edge by doing things like going down the highway, opening his door while driving 55 MPH and spitting his tobacco juice. I can hear her now yelling at him. And of course, we could never go directly there. We had to go on a back road because he "a 10 pointer at the edge of the woods" and as we approached the spot, he would always say "no talking, you will scare him." My mom never understood that was his way of getting to stop talking.
It didn't matter if I was 8 or 18, as we made this journey together in the car, knowing the final destination, my butt cheeks would tighten and I would be so stressed out knowing that my cousins were at my mamaw's having fun an eating good food and I would be entering the "geriatric Twilight Zone" with shitty food.
We never knew that cast of characters. Jack and Dorothy (we loved Dorothy, Jack was a couple notches up from Walter Matthau, and were my dad's aunt and uncle), Roz, who was maybe two years older than me, graduated college at 18 and was some nuclear something and we had ZERO in common, Peg (who totally understood that I was miserable being there and why I was miserable) and her dentures that were too big for her mouth and she would smack them when she spoke...seriously can still hear that sound 50 years later and some other cameo appearance guests.
I would say hello, heard how tall I had gotten or grown up and beeline to the back bedroom to build a jigsaw puzzle. I spent the entire day in the back bedroom listening to at least seven people with hearing challenges trying to converse. I will give Betty (the bitchy grandmother) credit, she always bought great jigsaw puzzles.
My mom would always say on the way over there, "I can promise you this, when we walk in, you will not smell turkey because it will not even be in the oven yet. She says we are eating and 4, who wants to take bets? I am betting on 7". But we had to be on time. The irony.
The dining room table always looked like a photo from Southern Living, maybe even cover worthy. But, as my dad would say "yeah, but the food sucks."
The room was too small and crammed and she crammed us all in there and whenever anybody cut their food, the whole table and chandelier would shake and you could actually see the crystals on the chandelier hitting one another. I used to cut food just to see this.
Above our dinner plates, were the salad plates, with wilted lettuce with a green jello salad on it with carrots in it. I swear on my kids, I NEVER, EVER, ate that salad. Because it was my job to clear the dishes afterward, trust me, I was not alone. I know to this day if you were to mention green jello salad with carrots, my brother would instantly shake his head and go back in time to Bert Drive.
The dinner deadline always came and went. The turkey was never done in time. I know my mom went in to that kitchen and turned that oven up at least three times while we were there.
They always played cards and Uncle Jack would always lose and yell. Betty always served this Chinese noodles as a snack (that I have never seen again in my life) and you could hear her chewing and Peg's dentures beating down on them.
When it was time to leave, we always passed on leftovers. Always. My mom had a turkey and stuffing that she made while my dad and Todd were in the woods.
The two redeeming things of the day, great jigsaw puzzle (which I always completed) and the Islay's vanilla ice-cream squares with the chocolate turkey in the center (do they even make those anymore? loved them)
As years passed, I would hear others talk about Thanksgiving and how it was their favorite holiday, and they would go on and on and I swear I would just sit there and wonder what was wrong with them. If my Thanksgiving was like this growing up, wasn't everybody's?
So, I marry my husband who loves Thanksgiving. Seriously, we are total opposites. Every year as the holiday approached, there was conversation about the day. No real traditions. My dad was an only child and my mom one of three...we were a more condensed family. Easy to manage and plan. My husband, one of nine. Not as easy to organize.
So, I took the bull by the horns and begrudgingly started our Thanksgiving traditions.
And it wasn't always easy. We had a couple rough years there for a while (summer camp) but we did it. My sister-in-law would come, and we did parades and Flotillas. But a funny thing happened, kids started to have jobs, sports, college, and the whole circle of life thing happened, and the traditions changed again.
One year, when I was really on a mission to have a great Thanksgiving, I bought some turkey dishes at Ross.
A few months ago, Walker mentioned that when I pass, he would like those dishes. OMG. I felt like I had accomplished something. He wanted the turkey dishes. Bonus. I shopped on every app like Poshmark or Mercari trying to find extra pieces. I was so happy. Wow, a man wanting dishes. Who knew?
Maybe Bitchy Betty had it right all along. Maybe it was the table setting. Or maybe, just like the green jello salad or the Islay's turkey, it was something that he remembered about sitting around the table on Thanksgiving at his home.
Honestly, as much as my brother and I loved being with our cousins and awesome grandparents, we don't have the stories to tell like we do from the one day of the year that haunted us for a whole year afterward.
I think for women, it is everything leading up to the big days that makes us crazy and thrive. New dishes, a tablecloth, wreath, recipe, guest, the perfect wrapping paper and ribbon, whatever it is, that is part of the magic of the holiday. And when it finally gets here, we just want peace and to relax and chill with the magic. But maybe the magic can be as simple as a slab of vanilla ice-cream with a chocolate turkey in it. (searched for hours to find an image of this)
My mom always taught us to invite anyone or everyone that you know, who doesn't have a table to sit at, to be at your table. Over the years, one of our traditions has been to invite those who do not have a table to go to. But this year, as folks age or have children and grandchildren, whatever the reason, it is just us. (plus, Steve).
"Mom, you still need a tablecloth on the table", I was reminded. I guess she noticed that was the only day we used a tablecloth.
As I watch Christmas decorations go up and people posting about putting up their Christmas trees, I just want to sit with my pumpkin spice candles burning and say "chill, Christmas will still be there. Let's celebrate the Mayflower.
Two of my kids will be at the table, fresh from college with tons of dirty laundry, my husband is well, my other child is well and thriving. The sun still sets and comes up again. When there is darkness, the light comes. We have a baby coming to our family, a wedding and a graduation. Lots to look forward to and celebrate.
Let us be thankful.
As I was writing, it popped into my head that there was a journey on a ship to another country that gave us Thanksgiving. It was a journey on a donkey that gave us Christmas.
I just rode in my car to Ross to get my new beginning. Let us be Thankful.
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