A Real Thanksgiving Memory

Family Traditions  - 2010

Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday.  Growing up in Watertown, MA my memories of those family feasts are of happy times.  The holiday began on Thanksgiving Eve when my mother would start preparing the stuffing.  The house would be full of delicious odors as mounds of chopped onions and celery and  breakfast sausage were sauteed,  then mixed with bread crumbs, seasoning, and “secret Irish spices” – which was our joking reference to plain salt and pepper.

Mom would be up at six the next morning, making the final preparations and getting the turkey into the oven.  By the time we kids got out of bed, the house was already warm with the aroma of roasting turkey.  Store-bought turkeys always came with a bag of bird parts, called “giblets.”  Mom would boil the giblets in a pan to feed them to the cats, so they could have Thanksgiving too.

I read somewhere that some of our most vivid memories are associated with odor.  To me, there is nothing that says “home” quite like the fragrance of a turkey cooking in the oven.  The whole house smells like peace love and harmony.

I have happy memories of those days when we were all young and healthy.  My grandparents came to our house for holiday feasts.  They lived in a tiny cottage near Revere Beach.  They would drive 17 miles east along winding Route 16  to our house on Robbins Road.  I still remember one time when they arrived at our house in the old maroon Plymouth sedan.  Grandpa was a careful driver and he would frequently get honked-at for moving too slowly for some speed demons.  He would respond with colorful curses picked up during his Navy days.   We were very amused when we asked my grandmother about the traffic, she remarked, “Well, there sure were a lot of bastards and son-of-a-bitches on the road today!” She was of course quoting the words Grandpa had yelled out the window to anyone who honked at him.  

Usually we kids would go to the Watertown-Belmont football game. Dad might walk down with us if the weather was good.  After the game we would return home, and the smell of the roasting turkey would hit us as we walked through the door.  We had various chores.  Mine was to peel and cut the turnip and squash for boiling.   While the vegetables were boiling, Mom would serve hors d’oeuvres of cooked shrimp, nuts, celery and olives. For drinks there was always chilled cider and sodas for the young people and plenty of bubbly for the adults.    

Finally the dinner would be served and eight of us would gather around the table.     We all stuffed ourselves on roast turkey with mashed potatoes, squash, turnip, green peas, cranberry jelly, dinner rolls.  Everyone raved about Mom’s gravy. She always said that it was because she used the same water that was used to boil the turnips and onions. I still do not know how mom got everything on the table while still piping hot.  We didn’t have microwaves back then.

A few years later my daughters would grow-up in Wellesley, but we celebrated Thanksgiving in a very similar manner. Thankfully, when the time came, my wife Judy took on the role of hostess and kept the same cherished recipes for stuffing, gravy, and all the rest: the traditional football game (against Needham), the dinner with all the fixin’s --  even the visiting grandparents.  .

A few years ago, the Thanksgiving baton was passed to my eldest daughter.  She has assumed the role as holiday hostess and will again be cooking the turkey this year.

Now, we are the visiting grandparents.  We will be driving over to Natick just after noon next Thursday. If you are going that way and you see a silver Camry that seems to be going too slowly, please refrain from honking. I am just being a careful driver. It runs in the family.

The Real Thanksgiving Story

Just for the record,  the real Thanksgiving Dinner went off very well with no scenes from "Hotel California." 

My daughter reports that the 22 lb turkey from a local organic farm cost $125.  Holy shit!  That's like almost $6 a pound.   It was delicious and moist.  Still cheaper than fish or beef.

We did not mention the election, except for the 16 year old grand son who wanted to see the adults fight.  He kept making anti-Trump statements.  (His dad was a pro-Trump guy). 

It was peaceful and congenial and we were all thankful for our blessings.

...

We did not talk about the terrible choices Trump is making for his cabinet.  I was always disappointed that Obama did not select the strongest people for his administration, (especially Treasury and AG and Sec of State, twice), but he looks like a genius compared to the Twitterer-in-Chief (elect)'s announced appointments and reported considerations,  Nikki Haley is an ok choice for UN Ambassador -- what the heck do they do, anyway? 

 I am not feeling to confident when the guy who has been named Attorney General is a racist homophobe (Sessions).  Ben Carson, who admits that he has no administrative experience is gonna be HUD Secretary.  Two others are blatant plum jobs as a reward for rich donors, who are utterly unqualified to be Cabinet members.  If Rudy Guiliani gets Sec of State, I'm moving to Mexico, if they will let me in.. 

Thanksgiving 2016

It’s a cloudy day in New England.  The family gathers for the annual dinner and opportunity to reconnect.  We arrive and get hugs all around except from the grandchildren who barely look up from their electronic devices, with a “Uh, Hi.” Then back to the chase or battle or grand theft felony games.  

Fine, we think, accepting the proffered bloody marys; we prefer adult conversation anyhow.  But there are warnings this post-election year.  The wrong guy has been elected and those of us who are in the majority must be careful not to talk about it.  “No politics! Period,” our host commands.  

Several members of the family voted for the wrong guy and will very likely be displaying some offensive righteousness, if allowed to enter a free-for-all discussion.  The majority, wallowing in moral superiority and fear, cannot bring ourselves to even acknowledge the reality of what has happened, because it can't happen here. Or so we thought.   How could the opposition not see the calamities that will surely fall upon all our heads?

We, who are proud to profess our tolerance of all human behavior, except what we call hate-speech, remain steadfastly intolerant of people who disagree with us on which candidate was worse.

No, we must not allow talk about it.  Like being at a wake, we shall not speak ill.  We make a list of approved topics – Mmm the stuffing is especially good this year. Is that a new painting hanging on the wall?  So, how about them Patriots?  How is that cure for nagging rectal itch working out?  Cold, isn’t it?  What a cute kitty,  (to grandkid:  Hows school going? What grade are you in now? Really?) and etcetera. 

(Speaking of grandkids, one grandpa I know tells me that when he would visit his grandkids, which was not often, they would ignore him and keep playing or watching their devices.  He decided to start giving them each a crisp twenty dollar bill.  He reports that now every time he comes in the door they compete with each other to run and give him a big hug.) 

       

But I digress.  

At the Thanksgiving gathering, we,  the majority, stand around, sipping our drinks, nervously waiting for the Alt-right contingent to arrive.  We hope they will not be gloating about the election outcome -- or worse, complaining about the not-my-president  riots protests.   And if we hear any talk about immigration, the wall, locking-her-up, extreme muslim terrorists, trade pacts, China, guns, or the revered cast of “Hamilton,” we will be furious.  The more we think about it, the more pissed-off we get.

Who do they think they are, lording it over us like that?  Those fucking deplorables!

We gather at the window as the hate wagon arrives with it’s gaudy Trump/Pence bumper sticker. 

“Hello everyone,” they greet us warmly. 

We see through that phoniness, and stab them with our steely knives.    

More Post Election Prattle

In the aftermath of the Trump election earthquake, pundits are still sifting through the ruins, looking for causes.  The shambles of still smoking expectations resemble the landscape of a dystopian fantasy.
   
Shocked and dismayed, some wander the information highway like philosophical zombies searching for meaning.  Others gather into distraught groups standing with scrawled signs, crying out their anger, grief and disappointment to the pitiless sky.

For many, including me, the suddenness of this new reality came out of the blue. We would have been less surprised if large UFO monoliths suddenly appeared in the skies.  The reality is a temblor measuring at least 6 on the Richter scale, enough to crumble old beliefs and assumptions.   

Many progressives have stuck their heads in the sand, declaring with absolute certainty that Trump's election was simply more evidence of discrimination against a woman becoming President (similar to the way many on the left were quick to dismiss any criticism of Obama as racism).   Of course there are misogynists and racists in the general public, but I contend that those prejudices are less of a factor than the issue of Trust.

In case you hadn't noticed, plenty of women and minorities have been getting elected and appointed to important posts in government and business internationally.   Remember Golda Meir, Maggie Thatcher, Angela Merkel?  In recent decades, there has been a steady quota of about 20 female heads of state in the world. 

There are six  incumbent female Governors in  the USA.  Currently 125 elected members of congress/senate are Women. So this is the reality that Hillary supporters must come to grips with: it wasn't her gender that lost the race.

I am convinced that whatever latent prejudices a person might have, they will vote for the person that they believe will do the best job.  

Time will tell whether these beliefs were well-founded in last week's election.



  

Speechless, Almost

I am not a fan of election night coverage.  Call me old-fashioned but I prefer actual vote counts to exit polls and breathless projections the minute  the polls close.  So, last night I was reading a book at the kitchen table  (Grisham's newest novel "The Whistler," if you must know,) while Judy was following the various returns, and the all-important analysis on cable TV.   

 Around midnight she announced that she was going to bed, and with a look of trepidation on her face, said, "Trump's going to win."  She said it in the same tone a doctor might have used to inform you that you have inoperable cancer.

My first thought was "This cannot be..."  I had never entertained the thought that Trump might actually succeed in fooling most of the people.  

I woke up this morning and realized it was not just a bad dream.  I was not feeling great. I was stunned. I wondered how even the most ardent Hillary-hater could forget that Trump is little more than a bag of wind  -- a phony two bit reality show celebrity, a pussy-grabbing, multi-bankrupt, tax evading, petty blowhard.     But the numbers are there in blue and red.   

I am still stunned (if not speechless), and coming to grips with the new reality show that we will watch unfold.  I feel a few pluses: At least, Hillary is never going to be president.  This time she will not get a nice cabinet position.  Hopefully Hill and Bill will exit stage left and fade into history.  

Also, the stock market has not crashed -- as was feared during the early morning hours -- at least, not yet!. 

It is too early to do an effective autopsy, but one cannot help opining on cause and effect.  Many of us who are stunned today must admit to being deaf to the numbers of disaffected people.  

I think it will become clearer that Trump's election is to a great extent ( but not entirely) due to a backlash to the speed of changes that progressives/liberals have been inflicting on the not-so-silent majority.  Political correctness has gone amok, where many voters felt their rights and beliefs were being trampled in the progressive dust while the PC gang remained intolerant in smug moral superiority.   Hillary's failure to be elected has little to do with her gender and a lot to do with the fact that she is generally disliked and distrusted.

So now it is up to Mr. Trump to follow through on his promises to make America great.  Will that be manifested by  "Trump" being etched in big letters into the White House Portico? Will he invite Putin to spend a few nights in the Lincoln bedroom while they plan world domination?  

Or, will he actually help Veterans, reform immigration, improve the balance of trade, appoint responsible judges to SCOTUS, etc.?

Time will tell.   I am not optimistic.  

Not Voting for Trump

Since you asked, I may as well reveal my political preference.  

I'm voting for the second-worst candidate.   I'm not happy about it.  Her election will keep us at status quo, a deadlocked congress, corruption at the highest levels, weak economic growth.

At least we won't be going to war to settle Donald's grudges and debts.  No intelligent person who actually listens to what he has said over the course of the campaign could want this person as Commander in Chief.  I couldn't even vote for Trump for Permanent Latrine Orderly (PLO)