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Nov 10, 2003 Ahh Thanksgiving… A time to reflect on those things that make us thankful, a time to enjoy foods of all kinds and diets be damned. A simple time of enjoying the Morning floats and the televised parades, and of being thankful that we are not being slowly frozen to death and pick pocketed along the glittering jewel of the Central Park West. A carefree time, two weeks without school. A time to drive parents insane with play station games and video rentals. A time of their prayers becoming a chant, "Is school open yet?", and too far off to actually be answered. We love, enjoy and relish the anticipation of the distant family and eagerly await their arrival, only to remember why we never stay in touch with them for the rest of the year, when they arrive. That happy time when dinners are decided on long in advance and fussed over, only to realize that the turkey really is still frozen and that the stores are closed and you have forgotten the milk. The air kisses, the hugging, the smelly cigars and worse perfumes. Of Uncle Kornball slipping a dollar to you as he walks in the door. Of Aunt Marge Bigboobs smothering you with hugs and kisses. Yes that tradition of you giving up your room to the other kids on hopes of same age playfulness, only to realize they all wet the bed and their "puppy" (a full grown Mastiff) ate your Mickey Mantle autographed baseball. But of all these nuances, there is only one truly time honored and time tested ritual that has made the family gathering of Thanksgiving so memorable and make it a truly American tradition. I speak dear reader of the " The Family Argument". Now what Kind of Thanksgiving would it be without it. Boring, that's what. Why what would Thanksgiving be without the old peccadilloes, old disputes, old animosities and weird looks. And let us not forget that no one is really burying the hatchet at this solemn time, instead it is being sharpened to wield it once again, to be buried into someone in anger and family love. Picture it, a nice large gathering of the stair stepped tables, with the only borderline teenager sitting at the coffee table in the living room with the La Petite Academy set, with the excuse that the teenager is the only one who can pour Kool-Aid without spilling. And there you have it. All the pretty new dishes, all of the food and everyone gathered around making joyus conversation. Somewhere between the first slice of turkey and the first pass of cranberry sauce the college bound vegan will make a comment that she is not eating. Declare a strike and stage a sit in on behalf of all the animals killed. She will no doubt demand jello. Then the constant offering of veggies will begin. To head her off you remember that there are some remains of cottage cheese in the very back of the fridge with thin layer of ice in the cover and offer that to appease. The tension is so thick you can carve it with that new electric carving knife, if only it had a longer cord. A small whisper is noticed, small and trivial. Uncle Kornball has gallstones, he makes a gesture and his wife makes the comment the gravy is too salty. So he picks, not to insult you. Another small whisper is noticed, and a face is made. Not a face of true disgust, but one of both puzzlement and nausea. A quick dash from the table and a sweat soaked return later. The dinner is still going well. There it is the long awaited pitcher of Kool-Aid spill on your newly bought whitish wool Berber carpet over the wax and oiled floor. You were prepared for that. A quick mop and Oxy spritz and no one ever noticed. Then a cry, a shrill if you please. An ear piercing catterwall of such magnitude you panic. And of course it is coming from the smaller table. Did someone choke? Did someone poke an eye out with a fork? NO, a sigh of relief. It was just Bear in the Big Blue House float deflated as it came around the corner. Note to self. Screen taped parade for deflations! But these are nothing compared to the side comment about your eldest. No not the vegan.. The one with the patch over her eye that has an eyeball painted over it? Oops sorry that’s your kid. What about the other one, You know the one that had invested too foolishly in a subdivision in Bangladesh and condos in Iraq. No not that one either? Ok what about the drop out that dropped back in only to cause the downsizing of your company and you loosing your job? No not that one either? It must be the read all tell all racy emails from some guy name Limpfisheggsucker? Then it really is the old comment on "I dated your mother first. Loaned you the money to buy the house, this should have been my house, and she used to be a good cook?" Ah, that is the catalyst now it really is Thanksgiving. The arguments and tempers begin to boil and simmer. It is only a matter of time before arguments with words become fists pounding, and fists becoming foot stomping, and well you an your family know how it goes, after all It really is just a truly American tradition. Happy Thanksgiving you all!! ------------ Email Julia Sherman Talley: jimmysdevoted2@bellsouth.net Comment on this column in the forum. Tell a friend about this site! ------------ |
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