My Family’s Thanksgiving Experience: A Story in Three Parts
My Family’s Thanksgiving Experience: A Story in Three Parts (2/3)
Author’s disclaimer: Before you read this and decide “Omigosh, you guys are like some sick combination of the Waltons, the Bradys, and, I don’t know what … the Von Trapps!” you should know that the following is NOT a typical day-in-the-life.
It was just a LOT of fun. I had to share.
Part 2 - Food, Art, Music, and Politics: Wherein A Dozen People Eat A Lot Of Food And Engage In All Manner Of Other Things
The following takes place between 1:30 and 5:00pm Thursday
So, as soon as we’ve gotten all the platters and bowls and dishes Just So, we give the word to have at, and it is all quickly disassembled.
I’m not joking. We had a LOT of food - two kinds of potatoes, two kinds of cold salads, relish AND sauce, rolls, gravy, green beans, and a Twenty-Four-lb turkey. But it was almost all eaten! And that was well underway even before my 6’3” brother (‘Nic’) showed up!
People - almost everyone from my octogenarian grandparents and next-door neighbor down - went back for seconds, even thirds! (Except me! I started with an enormously full plate [at least a tiny bit of everything] but I stuck with just that one plate) We wound up with almost no leftovers, except the mashed potatoes, which usually run out (which was why we peeled and cooked a full TEN pounds of them!)
But that’s not the point.
What IS the point is that they were also laughing and talking and sharing with one another, all around the table, regardless of who was sitting next to who.
You have to understand, my dad’s family…they don’t communicate that way. They’re very good at making jokes and being sarcastic and can generally talk about something, but they aren’t very good about really talking about things or WITH people, rather than AT them (and, I admit, that is an area I have often had to work on myself).
Also, they’re all very much creatures of habit - which I can respect - and set in their own ways. Before we began hosting Thanksgiving two years ago, I don’t think either of my uncles had ever been to our house (ANY of the houses we’ve lived in since moving back to Oklahoma in 1993) with the exception of that summer/fall when we lost my dad. Maybe two or three times between them, but only for a moment or two, never a real visit. However, they’ve both come every year!
And THIS year…well, as dinner was wrapping up, my dad’s younger brother, who was sitting on the end of the looooong table next to the piano, got up and was looking through the girls’ sheet music that was laying out. He found a piece he remembered from his childhood lessons and started picking it out. Then someone requested my sisters play something. (They’re both incredibly talented.)
‘Zuzu’ sat down and ran through several pieces while we moved about and mostly re-settled in the living room, talking. (Momma had of course started on the cleanup. I helped with the clearing part, but since even after a THIRD dose of medication [once again cutting short of the 4-to-6 hour time frame out of necessity] didn’t alleviate my …ick!blah!-ness, I apologized to her to go bow out, as it was easier to sit and rest on the sofa, playing hostess.)
My dad’s older brother did have to leave soon after dinner as he was expected elsewhere, but everyone else stayed. Dad’sYoungerBrother was looking again at The Siblings artwork hanging up on display (like I said, more on that at some future point) and we discussed them.
Other conversation topics of the afternoon included: the 2008 presidential prospects, Gramma's water-aerobics class, FreeRice.com, Paul Potts, the recent breakthroughs in stem cell research, the Oklahoma Centennial Celebration, etc. We ranged all over the place.
‘Jeremy’ was dealing with that bloated feeling you get when your eyes are bigger than your stomach and you’re satisfactorily full …and then “have” to eat a wedge of pie (loaded with whipped cream, of course) on TOP of that. So when he sat next to me, I had him lean over against my lap and rubbed his back and shoulders. I give good backrub. Plus, it was soothing and distracting for me to make these slow, relaxing, repetitive movements.
At some point ‘Zuzu’ picked up the big book of Broadway tunes that was sitting on the piano, and began some of her favorite tunes. As an obsessive lover of Broadway musicals myself (see the tags above), I was often humming along/singing quietly under my breath. And when she started “Someone Like You” … ‘Jeremy’ got into the act, too! He loves music, in all forms, and is blissfully unconcerned about his manhood or identity being called into question because he can appreciate beauty or art in a less “macho” form … so he enjoys that, and is willing to watch the A&E Pride & Prejudice and even quote or reference it - along with shooting air rifles and carrying at least one pocketknife at all times and obsessing over/reenacting the battle scenes in movies! He really is one awesome kid.
Anyway, so we were sitting there, me gently scratching triangles and rubbing circles across his back, both of us softly crooning along. About this time my grandmother got up and moved over to sit by the piano, too. She’s got a very nice voice, and in fact, spent a number of years going about and giving performances at retirement centers and civic clubs and things, with my sisters current piano teacher as her accompanist. Often times they would be a musical in concentrated form - briefly overview the plot, sing sections from the better-known songs, complete with props and portions of costumes.
Once she began singing, ‘Jeremy’ and I had a little more freedom to join in, rather than feeling like we were being disruptive to people’s conversations. (we were sitting on the sofa nearest the piano, other people could still talk)
And suddenly, just like that, it turned into a sing-a-long! Grandma and ‘Zuzu’ were of course into it, and I’ve already told you where ‘Jeremy’ and I stood. But my uncle also piped in a couple times, and even when he wasn’t singing, was talking about the music and the show it came from with our neighbor and apparently enjoying the experience.
And then my GRANDPA started singing!
Now, my grandpa has a great bass voice. In fact, he was part of the SPEBSQSA (Society for the Preservation and Encouragement of Barber Shop Quartet Singing in America) for years. But, lately, ... well, ... My grandpa is kind of like Columbo. If Columbo really WAS that absentminded and not putting on an act. The patting down pockets, all of it. And more and more over the last 10-15 years, he likes to get in his recliner, turn on his big screen tv, and fall asleep. (And, no, not just after Thanksgiving dinner. Every day, any day, any time.) He had laid claim to our recliner and I had just about thought he’d nodded off when he suddenly began crooning along with “On the Street Where You Live”!
My Grandpa! Singing!!! With everybody and participating of his own free will and just for the enjoyment of it! He hasn’t been like that in AGES. It was wonderful.
It went on for quite some time, and then Neighbor had to leave, and, although ‘Nic’ returned from his after-lunch nap and suggested a game of Scrabble, Uncle had to go, and grandparents weren’t sure they wanted to stay around long enough to get a good game finished. So we talked some more and then everyone headed home.
It had been a wonderful Thanksgiving, and, although we didn’t know it, the REAL fun hadn’t even begun yet!
The story continues (again, some more) in Part 3 - The Day’s Not Over Yet: Wherein Our Personal Family Celebration Includes Government Brainwashing, Car Chases, Homeless Ninja Warriors, Pickles, Elves, and Eating Leftovers At Midnight
Author’s disclaimer: Before you read this and decide “Omigosh, you guys are like some sick combination of the Waltons, the Bradys, and, I don’t know what … the Von Trapps!” you should know that the following is NOT a typical day-in-the-life.
It was just a LOT of fun. I had to share.
Part 2 - Food, Art, Music, and Politics: Wherein A Dozen People Eat A Lot Of Food And Engage In All Manner Of Other Things
The following takes place between 1:30 and 5:00pm Thursday
So, as soon as we’ve gotten all the platters and bowls and dishes Just So, we give the word to have at, and it is all quickly disassembled.
I’m not joking. We had a LOT of food - two kinds of potatoes, two kinds of cold salads, relish AND sauce, rolls, gravy, green beans, and a Twenty-Four-lb turkey. But it was almost all eaten! And that was well underway even before my 6’3” brother (‘Nic’) showed up!
People - almost everyone from my octogenarian grandparents and next-door neighbor down - went back for seconds, even thirds! (Except me! I started with an enormously full plate [at least a tiny bit of everything] but I stuck with just that one plate) We wound up with almost no leftovers, except the mashed potatoes, which usually run out (which was why we peeled and cooked a full TEN pounds of them!)
But that’s not the point.
What IS the point is that they were also laughing and talking and sharing with one another, all around the table, regardless of who was sitting next to who.
You have to understand, my dad’s family…they don’t communicate that way. They’re very good at making jokes and being sarcastic and can generally talk about something, but they aren’t very good about really talking about things or WITH people, rather than AT them (and, I admit, that is an area I have often had to work on myself).
Also, they’re all very much creatures of habit - which I can respect - and set in their own ways. Before we began hosting Thanksgiving two years ago, I don’t think either of my uncles had ever been to our house (ANY of the houses we’ve lived in since moving back to Oklahoma in 1993) with the exception of that summer/fall when we lost my dad. Maybe two or three times between them, but only for a moment or two, never a real visit. However, they’ve both come every year!
And THIS year…well, as dinner was wrapping up, my dad’s younger brother, who was sitting on the end of the looooong table next to the piano, got up and was looking through the girls’ sheet music that was laying out. He found a piece he remembered from his childhood lessons and started picking it out. Then someone requested my sisters play something. (They’re both incredibly talented.)
‘Zuzu’ sat down and ran through several pieces while we moved about and mostly re-settled in the living room, talking. (Momma had of course started on the cleanup. I helped with the clearing part, but since even after a THIRD dose of medication [once again cutting short of the 4-to-6 hour time frame out of necessity] didn’t alleviate my …ick!blah!-ness, I apologized to her to go bow out, as it was easier to sit and rest on the sofa, playing hostess.)
My dad’s older brother did have to leave soon after dinner as he was expected elsewhere, but everyone else stayed. Dad’sYoungerBrother was looking again at The Siblings artwork hanging up on display (like I said, more on that at some future point) and we discussed them.
Other conversation topics of the afternoon included: the 2008 presidential prospects, Gramma's water-aerobics class, FreeRice.com, Paul Potts, the recent breakthroughs in stem cell research, the Oklahoma Centennial Celebration, etc. We ranged all over the place.
‘Jeremy’ was dealing with that bloated feeling you get when your eyes are bigger than your stomach and you’re satisfactorily full …and then “have” to eat a wedge of pie (loaded with whipped cream, of course) on TOP of that. So when he sat next to me, I had him lean over against my lap and rubbed his back and shoulders. I give good backrub. Plus, it was soothing and distracting for me to make these slow, relaxing, repetitive movements.
At some point ‘Zuzu’ picked up the big book of Broadway tunes that was sitting on the piano, and began some of her favorite tunes. As an obsessive lover of Broadway musicals myself (see the tags above), I was often humming along/singing quietly under my breath. And when she started “Someone Like You” … ‘Jeremy’ got into the act, too! He loves music, in all forms, and is blissfully unconcerned about his manhood or identity being called into question because he can appreciate beauty or art in a less “macho” form … so he enjoys that, and is willing to watch the A&E Pride & Prejudice and even quote or reference it - along with shooting air rifles and carrying at least one pocketknife at all times and obsessing over/reenacting the battle scenes in movies! He really is one awesome kid.
Anyway, so we were sitting there, me gently scratching triangles and rubbing circles across his back, both of us softly crooning along. About this time my grandmother got up and moved over to sit by the piano, too. She’s got a very nice voice, and in fact, spent a number of years going about and giving performances at retirement centers and civic clubs and things, with my sisters current piano teacher as her accompanist. Often times they would be a musical in concentrated form - briefly overview the plot, sing sections from the better-known songs, complete with props and portions of costumes.
Once she began singing, ‘Jeremy’ and I had a little more freedom to join in, rather than feeling like we were being disruptive to people’s conversations. (we were sitting on the sofa nearest the piano, other people could still talk)
And suddenly, just like that, it turned into a sing-a-long! Grandma and ‘Zuzu’ were of course into it, and I’ve already told you where ‘Jeremy’ and I stood. But my uncle also piped in a couple times, and even when he wasn’t singing, was talking about the music and the show it came from with our neighbor and apparently enjoying the experience.
And then my GRANDPA started singing!
Now, my grandpa has a great bass voice. In fact, he was part of the SPEBSQSA (Society for the Preservation and Encouragement of Barber Shop Quartet Singing in America) for years. But, lately, ... well, ... My grandpa is kind of like Columbo. If Columbo really WAS that absentminded and not putting on an act. The patting down pockets, all of it. And more and more over the last 10-15 years, he likes to get in his recliner, turn on his big screen tv, and fall asleep. (And, no, not just after Thanksgiving dinner. Every day, any day, any time.) He had laid claim to our recliner and I had just about thought he’d nodded off when he suddenly began crooning along with “On the Street Where You Live”!
My Grandpa! Singing!!! With everybody and participating of his own free will and just for the enjoyment of it! He hasn’t been like that in AGES. It was wonderful.
It went on for quite some time, and then Neighbor had to leave, and, although ‘Nic’ returned from his after-lunch nap and suggested a game of Scrabble, Uncle had to go, and grandparents weren’t sure they wanted to stay around long enough to get a good game finished. So we talked some more and then everyone headed home.
It had been a wonderful Thanksgiving, and, although we didn’t know it, the REAL fun hadn’t even begun yet!
The story continues (again, some more) in Part 3 - The Day’s Not Over Yet: Wherein Our Personal Family Celebration Includes Government Brainwashing, Car Chases, Homeless Ninja Warriors, Pickles, Elves, and Eating Leftovers At Midnight