I love Thanksgiving

In my family, Thanksgiving is the big holiday. For years, everyone on my mother’s side has been gathering at my aunt G. and uncle B.’s house in Richmond for Turkey Day. I am talking 30 plus people. The whole show has been coordinated by our family’s matriarchy, simply referred to as the Sisters – my aunts A., K., G. and my mother. Four strong willed Southern women working in one kitchen for a command culinary performance is truly something to behold (preferably from a safe distance). Do as you are told and you will survive unscathed. Fuck around with them and you will be destroyed. This is their gig and “dammit, it is hard enough serving all of these people without you kids hanging out in the kitchen. Now go set the table!” or something like that…

They have a point. Cooking a turkey for that many folks requires a huge bird. At 20 minutes a pound, it sometimes takes 10 hours in the oven plus another hour of rest before the Butterball is ready. That means someone, usually aunt A., is up at 3 in the morning firing up the oven. Successfully putting on a full Thanksgiving meal for that many people, all at one sitting, demands everyone doing at least one assigned task in the kitchen and then getting the hell out of the there. That is part of the fun though. We get to work together, we know our role in the production, and we get to eat well. And every year, the dinner comes off without a hitch. Why? We have been doing this for so long that we have an established routine from which we SHALL NOT DEVIATE. This is sort of how things go…

One is to arrive no later than 10:30 the morning of and one must have their requested food item at the required state of readiness. For Lo and I, that is the relish tray so it is pretty easy. Fresh veggies, dip, hummus (our new contribution), pickles, etc. Upon arrival, we set up the platter and the snacking begins. If you have not had a Bloody Mary at this point, the drinking begins. If you have had one, now is the time for another.

For the next 2 hours or so, we stand around, eating, drinking, talking, and cooking. The potatoes are mashed, the stuffing is baked (one oyster and the other is hyman and sausage – hmmm good). When the bird finishes resting, my cousin W. carves her up. The job had belonged to uncle B, W.’s late father but has, like a seat at the big table, been passed down. Anyone caught stealing a piece of meat or a bit of skin by uncle B. usually received a swift whack on the back of the hand with the carving fork. Thankfully, cousin W. has somewhat relaxed the prohibition on sneaking a taste before the seating. If everything is on schedule, we all sit down at about 1:30 at two long tables and the gorgefest begins.

There is a perceptible flow to the noise level when we eat. At first, everyone is talking, telling stories, asking for the gravy and so forth. As people start digging in, a weird hush falls over the room and all you hear is the clacking of silverware on the plates and the glug of wine into glasses. It starts getting loud again as seconds are passed; then another lull until dessert and coffee are served. After dessert, things are pretty quiet again, usually because we are too stuffed to muster the energy to talk over each other.

Dinner takes about an hour. We get a few minutes to digest and Lo and I head for the kitchen to clean up the mess. The job fell to me several years earlier when aunt G. got super pissed at the family because no one would help her straighten up after dinner without bitching about it first. So I took up the mantle – hey, that’s the kind of guy I am. Plus, aunt G. loves Lo and I for it so it is a small price to pay. While we clean, the crowd filters out to the backyard for the annual football game as well as our family sing-along where cousin K. plays old folk tunes about unions, sailors, miners, and such. It is a cherished if a bit hokey tradition, but the sing-along provides a vital segue to another element of my family’s Thanksgiving Day ritual– the hazing of the first timers.

If this is you first time attending our Thanksgiving, whether through invitation or you marry in or whatever, you are required to provide some form of entertainment. I am not kidding. We have had people do cartwheels, sing solo a cappella, or read a limerick (often of the dirty variety) from a book we keep on hand for the occasion. Participation is not optional and you will be hounded into performing. As I said earlier, the Sisters are formidable and will not be denied. Once the newbies have met their obligation, the schedule of events is complete.

From there, we spend the afternoon free form - watching football, chatting, etc. until we say our goodbyes and head home, happy, full and looking forward to doing it all over again next year.