I love Thanksgiving. I love the colors of the trees, the snap in the air, the warm up for the big holidays. I miss the family I grew up with at Thanksgiving. My whole family lived within 20 miles of each other and we all gathered at my grandparents house in Sayville for Thanksgiving; 8 adults, 17 first cousins; tons of chaos, it was great. Now, the family is all spread out and so many members are missing, having gone on to their reward. There is no central gathering place anymore. There are no long term married couples anymore, everyone is either between spouses, or with a new one. And what divorce didn’t destroy in the family for Thanksgiving, football did. I remember the men smoking and drinking outside on the back porch while us kids played in the yard after the feast. I remember everyone coming in, all chilled with icy fingers, for dessert of hot chocolate and pumpkin pie and the traditional listening to family stories retold. Now, men grab a plate of turkey dinner, and head for the living room to watch football while they yell at the women to keep the kids quiet and out of the living room. Try as we might to force the family to sit together, at least for a blessing, the men are straining at the bit to get into that living room and get that damn game on.
“Oh gosh, Sally, what have you done to the living room?”
“I’ve adapted, Patty. I covered all the furniture with plastic drop cloths and put a trough on the coffee table in front of the couch. The men don’t want to sit with us and the kids, so I’ve stopped fighting it. I’m no longer making a “kid’s table”, I’m making “men’s table.””
“What are you serving them?”
“Traditional Thanksgiving foods. I’m putting a small turkey I made just for them in the center, with big bowls of mashed potatoes, stuffing and gravy, and all the remaining space I’m filling with nachos.”
“Where’s the plates and silverware? I just see big serving spoons and a carving knife.”
“They don’t need or deserve plates. They can just grab a big spoon and shovel the food in their mouths from a common bowl.”
“What about carving the turkey?”
“I figure one guy will carve the white meat and they’ll just rip the bird apart after that.”
“Eeeew! That’s so primitive!”
“I disagree. Ripping meat apart and ladling mashed potatoes and gravy into their mouths is how their ancestors ate. They can all feel like cavemen while they watch a grueling game of football and grunt and shout.”
“After you gonna give them napkins at least?”
“Nah. Napkins are too civilized. I’m leaving disposable baby wipes around. They can throw them on the floor, which is covered with a plastic sheet and when they’re gone I can just gather the whole thing and ditch it.”
“Don’t you think some of them will be insulted by the idea of eating from big bowls in a trough?”
“You’re an only child, right Patty?”
“Yes.”
“I have four brothers. Men always attack food like they haven’t eaten in a week. They’re pigs anyway, I’m just accommodating the reality. Wait and see.”
Four hours later. Patty walks into the living room during the game.
“Hi guys. How is everybody? Can I get you anything? Anybody need a knife or fork? How’s the food?”
Men on couch, “Everything’s fine. You’re blocking the TV. Everything’s fine. We’ll call you if we need anything.”
“Well Patty, are you satisfied? Did I do the right thing setting up a men’s table?”
“They didn’t even notice they were eating from a trough.”
“I rest my case.”
“Unbelievable.”
“More pumpkin pie? I pulled out the good china just for us. Isn’t this a beautiful pattern? It was a Neiman’s exclusive. I just love it.”
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