Well, it's that time of year again: stuff the turkey, open a can of cranberry sauce, layout the relish tray, and enjoy a thick slice of pumpkin pie (possibly from the one you carved just a few weeks ago!). That's right boys and girls, it's Thanksgiving time once again! We never actually had the traditional Thanksgiving in my family, Mother usually fried up some chicken legs and made her famous mackerel pudding, but I can remember the year we had the best Thanksgiving ever.
I was in elementary school at the time, Sissy was just starting Junior High. Mother, for reasons that are still unclear, decided to go visit an aunt we'd never met (or even heard of, actually) for the holiday and left Dad in charge. Dad decided that Thanksgiving was for the birds and suggested we make up our own dinner. He gave us a pen and paper and told us to jot down a grocery list. He sat on the couch swilling his special medicine while Sissy and I rooted through the kitchen. We planned the whole thing out: there would be pancakes and bacon, wheat toast with jelly, french fries in cheese and chili, marshmallow salad with chocolate sauce dressing, Coco Puffs stuffing, mashed ice cream with caramel gravy, Pepsi-Cola served in Mother's wine glasses, cherry pie for dessert, applesauce, grapes, and pickles.
Excited that our list was finally complete, we hopped on the couch rousting Dad from his drunken stupor. He drove us to the market and we gleefully filled up the basket. We couldn't believe what an awesome Thanksgiving we were about to have. Sissy was yammering non-stop while I fantasized about how my classmates would react as I recounted my awesome holiday dinner. After all the boring, traditional stories about what everyone had for dinner, I'd get up and recount our elaborate spread. Mouths would drop open, sighs of jealousy would permeate the air, Georgia would reach over and take my hand in hers. The whole school would be envious of me and my sugar-filled dinner. Just as Georgia and I were about to make out in the coat closet, I heard a beleaguered "Uh-oh" from Dad.
It seems Mother cleaned out his wallet before she left, leaving him with just $10. Our Thanksgiving would be ruined! Sissy started throwing her famous tantrum as Dad paid for pancake batter and a six-pack of Schlitz. Dad wearily drank his beer as Sissy continued screaming all the way home. I was just sad. It now appeared that I wouldn't be the envy of the school and I wouldn't be making out with Georgia any time soon. A single tear fell from my eye and splashed to my clasped hands below.
When we arrived home, Dad disappeared into the kitchen as Sissy disappeared to her room. I found my way to the TV and zoned out. I imagined Georgia and I in the coat closet, doing to her what I once saw Dad do to Mother. Twenty minutes later I heard Dad calling from the kitchen. He undoubtedly had bowls of cereal waiting for our consumption. Sissy lumbered downstairs and we both somberly tromped into the kitchen.
"Buck up, you little shits, Dad's got a surprise for you," he said, his speech slightly slurred, "Dinner is served!" He plopped down two huge stacks of fluffy, hot pancakes. There were blueberry, banana, cinnamon and just plain-old regular. Sissy and I stared at each other, wide-eyed. "Eat up before they get cold!" he demanded. Sissy and I hungrily dove in. "How'd you learn how to make pancakes, Dad?" I asked between mouthfuls, "You don't know how to cook!" He turned and gave me the same look I get just before a hefty thumping, "What do you mean, Dimbulb? I can cook! Now shut up and eat your dinner!" I heartily complied.
Later, after Dad finished off another bottle of "dinner," and Sissy and I were full to bursting with pancakes, plates stacked in the sink waiting for Mother's return, I witnessed something I'd never seen before, and never since: Sissy said, "Thanks Dad, I love you," and kissed him on the cheek. He belched his reply as she skipped out of the house, gearing up for playtime with Bobby Walker from down the street. "yeah, thanks Dad," I said as I made to peck his cheek. He swatted me away and growled "don't you kiss me, you little girl. Now go grab me another beer!"
As I went to grab him another beer my heart filled with love and joy. This was truly the best Thanksgiving ever. Dad made us delicious pancakes, Sissy was in a good mood, and I actually got to bring Dad a beer--the first of many as it turns out. I was sorry Mother missed the whole thing, but when she got home she didn't seem to mind. Although her trip was "exhausting," she certainly looked refreshed and revived. So maybe it was the best Thanksgiving for everyone.
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