Whether you're a Christian, Jewish, Muslim, B'nai, atheist, chances are you have holiday memories. Most of us have them, and, if we've been exceptionally lucky, most of those holiday memories are good.
A few of mine deal with having my grandparents on either side coming to our house, opening presents (at Christmas), and large meals involving turkeys and/or ham, depending on which set of grandparents were coming over. In one house, when we lived in Connecticut, there was a music room (it was a large Colonial house), where we'd all gather to sing holiday music while Mom played the piano. Very Norman Rockwell-esque.
Now, I'm sure that things weren't always wonderful - someone would have too much to drink, this relative wasn't talking with that one - but we tend to forget those less-than-stellar memories, or, if we remember them, gloss them over into something bordering on amusing.
Once I moved out on my own, the memories changed. Better? Just different. There was the first Thanksgiving that my ex- and I spent together without going to either set of paretns' homes. Although I'd fixed mashed potatoes before, the potatoes that year never quite cooked enough to mash, yet somehow managed to burn. Thank goodness, the cooking skills improved...
There are several Thanksgivings that stand out...
My ex- used to tell me that cooking a large holiday meal was a waste of time and energy; his mom used to settle on meatloaf and a dozen deviled eggs. "How about meatloaf?" he'd ask.
For Thanksgiving? Christmas? I'd think. It was what we might have for Sunday dinner, not holidays.
"I'd be happy with just a dozen deviled eggs."
Deviled eggs ended up on the menu, but they accompanied the turkey, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, rutabags, peas-with-pearl-onions, and pies; they weren't the main dish.
Yet every year, we'd hear that "I'd be happy with just a dozen deviled eggs."
After we split up, I invited him for a holiday meal. When he showed up, I handed him - yup, you guessed it - a plate with a dozen deviled eggs.
"But I smell turkey and apple pie!"
Aren't you the one who said...? Finally, I let him off the hook; yes, he'd get the turkey, et al, if he didn't mind sharing the eggs, The eggs may've been hard-boiled, but that didn't mean I had to be.
Later, after my ex- passed away too young, I met my future second husband. Thanksgiving was coming, and I invited him for dinner, as well as one or two other co-workers (we drove for a local cab company at the time), and several relatives.
The deal was that Paul would stop by around 4:00. Around quarter til, I realized I'd forgotten something at the store and told my oldest son that I was running out to pick it up; would he please keep an eye out for an older gentleman who, I hoped, would be stopping by?
"Sure, not a problem."
I left J.A. chopping up the rutabaga in the kitchen.
But Paul drove by while I was out, didn't see my cab, and kept going. I heard dispatch talk to him once while I was heading back to the house, but didn't tell dispatch to tell Paul to stop by; I figured he simply would. And the driver I really didn't care about did show up, after we'd eaten, and I'd dropped J.A. back at home in the Ybor section of Tampa.
The next morning, when I went to cash out, Marsha - one of the cashiers - asked, "What's this I hear about you standing someone up?" That's when I learned that Paul had driven by while I was out; he thought I'd stood him up, while I thought he stood me up.
I offered to bring him some turkey, but by that time, it was too late. He also wouldn't come for Christmas dinner.
By the next year, we were married. We kidded that it was funny that we had to get married to insure that he get a home-cooked Thanksgiving dinner. We also planned how things would go when we cashed out the next day.
Friday morning, as we wandered into the office and saw that Marsha wasn't busy, we started in.
"You promised that if we got married, I could have a turkey dinner," Paul said loudly. "Instead, you handed me a stupid bologna sandwich!"
"It was turkey bologna!" I shot back.
"Can it, you two!" Marsha said. "I'm not buying it!" Busted!
Years later, Paul died in October, three weeks shy of our anniversary.
The first week in November, when I went grocery shopping, I picked up a turkey. I wasn't sure I was up to Thanksgiving, but I figured my sons deserved a dinner (and one with more than a dozen deviled eggs). Besides, Thanksgiving had been Paul's and my holiday.
A few days later, a friend - who happened to be my oldest son's mother-in-law - called from Tennesse. "A friend of mine is going to be calling you in a little while. Her name is C___, and when she calls, just accept what she's doing and thank her."
Sure enough, C___ called maybe fifteen minutes after I got off the phone with Linda. "Just wanted to let you know I found out from J.A. which Publix you shop at, so I ordered a complete Thanksgiving dinner for you and the boys. Comes with corn bread stuffing, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, green beans, an apple pie and a pumpkin pie. It's already paid for so you can't say no. Just pick it up after 3:00 p.m. the day before Thanksgiving."
After hanging up, I got to thinking. The turkey I'd already bought would stay frozen until Christmas.
A few days later, I was on the phone when J. informed me that the next door neighbors were walking up the sidewalk pulling their year-old twins in a wagon.
That's nice, I said.
"They're carrying a large box," J. said. I was curious, but stayed on the phone. "They're coming up to the house!"
That got my attention, so I cut the phone call short and went to the door. Turns out, we were being handed a third turkey and all the trimmings! After thanking the neighbors, I set about putting the extra turkey and trimmings away.
Then, about three hours later, another neighbor came by with her mom...who was handing us - you guessed it - turkey number four!
Now the freezer needed to be repacked to accomodate three frozen turkeys (the one to be picked up the day before would be pre-cooked).
The next morning, I called my friend Kevin so I could head to the store. On the way there, I told him about the four turkeys. He kept giving me these weird sideways glances.
Finally, as we waited at a traffic light, he informed me, "I'm glad you told me about this now instead of later." Turned out the $5 I was about to hand him for the ride to the store would have been enough to allow him to buy a complete turkey dinner from Publix, to be picked up the day before Thanksgiving.
"No, please don't," I told him. I also told him that, while I really appreciated the gesture, five turkeys were definitely a little much.
I'm sure Paul was looking down at this, smiling, and thinking that it sure beat a bologna sandwich and deviled eggs...
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