Thanksgiving Memories

A comment from Jay over at Hot & Fresh (Almost) Daily sparked a humorous Thanksgiving memory:

You know what makes me laugh? Old people swearing and children crying.

After reading his post, I promised Jay an old-person-swearing story once Turkey Day drew closer. We'll it's the day before, so here we go ...

(Cue The Human League/John Cougar music -- or some other appropriately horrible early '80s tunes)

Picture it: Thanksgiving Day, somewhere around 1981. ("Golden Girls" fans should laugh now; you others can read on clueless). The entire extended family gathered for a meal. Old people galore; kids running everywhere; enough food to feed all of Somalia for months. We finally make it to the dining area. A big wooden table and five or so assorted card tables circling it. We fill up our plates, sit and eat.

Then comes a time-honored family tradition -- the adherence to which was strictly enforced by my grandfather's sister. Each family member old enough to collect a thought must say at least one thing for which he or she is thankful. Finally, it rolls around to my great-aunt, The Tradition Enforcer, who was -- um -- bossy to put it nicely. This led to some resentment among some other family members, including her brother and my great-uncle E.E. (or Double E, as we called him). Pardon the rabbit trail here, but this is important to the story.

Anyway ...

The Tradition Enforcer cannot be thankful for just one thing. No, she must be thankful for several. There's one problem: It's the same three things she's always thankful for: "My two wonderful children and Jesus Christ, Our Lord and Savior."

This particular year, Double E had had all he could stand -- both of his sister's piousness and of the bourbon he kept sneaking outside to drink. I had the great fortune that year of sitting next to Double E. In fact, I always tried to sit near him, as he was highly unpredictable and could utter something entirely inappropriate at the drop of a hat. He was a house painter in his younger days and had a horrible case of the sniffles from breathing all those chemicals. By this point, he had to have been 70, which was ancient to me as a young teenager.

As always, Double E didn't let me down. As soon as the words "Lord and Savior" left her lips, the 70-year-old Double E (without his dentures) leaned over and whispered to me the greatest words even whispered at a Thanksgiving table:

"I've been eating Thanksgiving with that b*tch for 70 years and playing this stupid game for about that long. In all that time, you'd think she could find one ... just one ... other f*cking thing to be thankful for besides Jesus, her drunk of a son and a fat-ass daughter who can't keep a job!"

Happy Turkey Day, Double E, wherever you are.