My family and I survived the Thanksgiving holidays with flying colors this year.
No feelings were hurt over not-so-perfect recipes. No fits of rage ensued across the table resulting in a flinging of cranberry sauce. No one left on two wheels vowing to cut someone out of the family will. And we are all on speaking terms a couple of weeks later.
I must admit, I am not sure how to handle this new age of fellowship and harmony.
Let’s set the record straight. The family that God blessed me with since birth is my rock. I love them dearly. But there are a few characters who made every family gathering, how can I put it....interesting.
My grandmother was the main culprit of “episodes.” She insisted that meal preparation begin at the crack of dawn. Anyone not on that same page was considered “lazy.”
The sun would not have even entered the sky yet when Maw Maw would begin peering out the kitchen window to see what cars were pulling up the gravel driveway.
“Well, I guess no one is coming,” she said, throwing down her dish rag in disgust. “I’m not doing this next year.”
My grandfather would light his pipe and take a deep sigh. This wasn’t his first rodeo.
“Earlene, it’s six o’clock in the morning,” Paw Paw said. “No one eats before the rooster crows on Thanksgiving.”
Maw Maw would continue to huff and puff, making circles around the kitchen. One year, she even called the homeless shelter to see if they needed a Thanksgiving meal since “her bunch wasn’t coming.”
My mother would begin preparing the cornbread dressing around 7 a.m.
“What are we gonna have,” Maw Maw asked. “Dressing or soup? You should have been up at 4 o’clock like me getting that dressing ready.”
Momma would down another cup of eggnog and continue with her work. Paw Paw made his way outside on the porch. And I was regulated to the kitchen table to watch the madness unfold.
My aunt and uncle would pull up around 9 a.m. I would be watching the annual parade on the television by then, but I could hear the rumble in the kitchen.
“Good evening,” Maw Maw bellowed as my Aunt Sonya and Uncle Herbert walked in the back door. “I was wondering if you were gonna make it.”
Aunt Sonya would roll her eyes and place her pound cake on the buffet and deck.
“What is that,” Maw Maw asked, eyeballing the cake.
“That’s the pound cake I told you I was making,” Aunt Sonya replied, immediately lighting a cigarette.
I must admit, my aunt wasn’t the best cook. Sure, her food tasted good, but it was the appearance that threw many people off. Her food was just plain ugly, bless her heart.
The pound cake was a crumbling mess. Half of it sunk while the rest was collapsing off the plate.
“That’s my cake pan from Easter I loaned you too I see,” Maw Maw said.
It wasn’t long before Uncle Herbert made his way to the recliner to watch the parade with me.
Uncle Herbert was a husky man in those days. It was before he got on his diet. And every year, he broke one of Maw Maw’s chairs when he flung his weight on top of it.
This year was no exception.
“What games are on....” he began as he flung himself into the small recliner.
Ka-boom!!!
The entire chair collapsed to one side.
“Well, I’ll be a...” Maw Maw shouted, throwing her hands around the caved in recliner arm. “That’s about right. Get your lard self up. You broke another chair Herbert!!”
Uncle Herbert would apologize, but it was no use. That recliner would be out by the garbage within a minute.
After Aunt Sonya finished a pack of cigarettes and Momma took out another few glasses of egg nog, we would all sit for dinner.
It started our pleasant enough. But that all changed.
The dressing would be undercooked cause Maw Maw kept huffing about how long Momma was taking to cook it. In frustration, Momma would slam the pan on the table before it was even finished.
Maw Maw would insist on seeing what all of “her dishes” you ate. If she caught you skipping over something of hers, she mentioned her arthritis and how she wasn’t going through all this trouble again next year.
Paw Paw would eventually go into a diabetic fit because he snuck too much cake and a couple of red Faygos when no one was looking.
Aunt Sonya and Maw Maw would begin an argument that would result in a revised will by the end of the week. Maw Maw would amend the will in a heartbeat.
Uncle Herbert would eat standing up for fear of breaking a chair at the dining table.
And I would continue eating as if nothing was happening. When you are raised around a crazy Southern family, you tend to just go with the flow.
Yes...those are the childhood memories I have of a family Thanksgiving.
Nothing liked that happened at all this year. Unfortunately, Maw Maw, Paw Paw, and Aunt Sonya have all passed away.
And as Momma sat down to a quiet meal this year with my husband and three kids, it dawned on her.
“I don't know what to do with nobody fighting,” she said. “It’s been a wonderful day.”
“Yeah, the dressing is even cooked,” I said, with a smile.
We got a good laugh out and finished our meal. It sure was nice. But in a way, I missed the chaos.
I certainly missed the ones whose chairs were empty.
