Thanksgiving is a day to be thankful for life, family, and the bounties of the harvest.
At least it should be.
And then there is what happens to my holidays.
But, before we begin to start discussing the current holiday, lets talk about Thanksgivings past.
Like the rattling chains of Jacob Marley, the past haunts me at times. (No, I am not explaining)
And some of them are more than haunt worthy.
But where to start?
In general, the thing that stands out the most is sitting at the kids table rocked, well, when I was a kid.
And then you got old enough to realize that the kid’s table sucked, badly.
But you were stuck there.
Waiting for someone to die.
Its was always a kind of damaging situation.
Like a holiday themed “Hunger Games”.
And one of the sickest things were the conversations that went on with the other family members that are close to you in age, and stuck at the kids table with you.
You begin to identify who has to die for you all to make the move.
Who dies first? Uncle so and so. With him gone, his wife may start spending the holidays with her family.
If Aunt whatshername passes, God forbid, but her boyfriend won’t come next year. Besides, I can ask mom to not invite him.
The talk gets pretty ugly.
But one of the oldest nasty memories of Thanksgiving is one of just a freaky uncomfortable to be there type of feeling.
Football is on, that one is a gimme.
In the one corner, looking confused and wearing a general aura of menace, is a mentally retarded cousin.
He is also a pedophile, by the way.
I have no idea the threats or evil things that went on to get him an invite, his mother was a vile harridan, so there he sat.
And the second he got up to use the bathroom, everyone in the room flinched and all the mothers began to do headcounts.
I had no idea at the time what kind of danger I was in, I was 5 at the time. However, I had an ass you could bounce a quarter off of, so in retrospect, I had a HUGE target painted on my butt.
Sitting opposite the mentally challenged menace, was another cousin that, looking back,
what having a bad case of the DDT’s.
The wine began flowing early that day, so just a little shy of late afternoon dinner, was when the first shouting match began in the kitchen.
They never last long, but the funny part is, its an argument in which everyone erupts and screeches for a second and a half, then everyone quiets down.
Good times, good times.
Now that I have had a chance to look back, I realize that the Thanksgivings of today are complete pussies in comparison.
This will be a piece of cake.
Several pieces of cake. And turkey.
Lots of turkey.