As I sit here in my study, this early morning, with the sun just starting to come up over the horizon, casting it’s subtle warm glow across the frost covered tree branches and the world just starting to wake up, I am focused on the fact that Thanksgiving is just a few short days away. Each year, Karl and I, plan out the feast and contemplate who to invite. Typically, it is always family, from one end or the other. It is a huge affair, for us. We each plan out dishes we want to include, sometimes adding new ones but often relying on our favorites.
Thanksgiving is quite possibly the most perfect of holidays, if you take away the historical atrocities that go along with it, of course. You don’t have to stand in line for hours, trying to pick out the perfect gift, only to find out they already have it or that it is the wrong size. The only gift one needs to bring, other than their appetite, may be a favorite beverage that you would like to share with one and all. From there, you simply show up and eat. But while I love this feast inducing holiday, it doesn’t come without some southern messed up family drama. Join me today as I trip down memory lane in an essay I like to call, From Family Drama to Festive Feast: A Thanksgiving Tale.
Puttin’ on the dog
What isn’t there to love about Thanksgiving, really. You get to cook all of your favorite meals, invite over those that are the closest to you, hang out, and just eat without the thought of worry or judgment. It is about having a good time with great company. At least that is how I chose to look at it, now.
Thanksgiving is the time for what is called, putin’ on the dog. If you aren’t familiar, “puttin’ on the dog” is a saying that is popular in the South. It simply means to make something extravagant. Thanksgiving is one of two holidays that are perfect for this type of an affair. You set up your best dining room table setup, cook the most elaborate and tasty dishes, invite over people you care about to wow them, and just wallow in the lavishness of the event
By the time Thanksgiving gets here, we already have our Holiday finest on display. Mainly because Christmas starts on November 1st, in this house. Every corner of the room is bespeckled in something glittery or flashy. Soft music cascades throughout our house, candles flickering on the table and in strategic corners to keep the smells of the holiday wafting through the air. A veritable buffet is spread out on the kitchen island that includes all the tasty dishes for the holiday. And while we are vegetarians, no one is without their favorite dish, at our house. Karl goes all out and even includes a perfectly cooked turkey for our meat eating guests. Like I said, “puttin’ on the dog.”
Of Thanksgivings past
I cant say that I have always loved this holiday, there are some memories that I still have from my past that cause slight apprehension on this festive feasting day. In a couple of Thanksgiving posts from the past, I have discussed how I love this holiday due to the fact that it does bring families together and the food is amazing, but it wasn’t all corn pudding and perfectly made stuffing.
Growing up, my immediate family would do two, sometimes three Thanksgiving meals. My mother would be up, earlier than usual, to start prepping for the day. My sister and I would roll out of bed fairly early, grab a bowl of cereal and plant ourselves in front of the television to watch the parades. To get a perfect blending of viewpoints of the parades, we would switch between NBC and CBS. Once the parades were over, we would help out mother before getting ready to go to our Meemaw’s house. Meemaw, as some of you may remember, is my mother’s mother. The thing with going to Meemaw’s is that mom would want to get there as early as possible. I thought that this was more for mom to help out her mother with the final prep, but what I learned, at an albeit, young age is that my mother wanted to get there so that we would actually be able to visit and eat with her before my uncle would show up.
That may sound a little crass but here is the thing. My uncle wasn’t really a fan of any part of the family other than his. He thought his kids were perfect and that my mother was a tad too cavalier with her life. By that I mean he disapproved of the fact that she had been married once before she married our father. They would show up and devour a Thanksgiving meal much like locusts devouring a field of crops. What was even worse is that he would disapprove of some of the dishes that were made, so him and his wife started making their own to bring and eat. I mean, who cooks their own meal to bring to Thanksgiving? Well, I guess there is the argument that BYOTD (bring your own Thanksgiving dinner) does make it infinitely easier on the host, providing the host knows this ahead of time and plans accordingly. Our family did not do this.
One Thanksgiving we showed up at our normal time and found out mom’s brother had gotten there early due to some event they wanted to go to for church. By the time we got there, they were saying their goodbyes. As we got settled in at the table, Meemaw made us aware that mom’s brother’s family had pretty much cleaned out the stuffing, most of the turkey, all of the biscuits, and two pies from the dinner. This was something that seemed to happen, more often than not. The upside was that we were usually there first. Of all of the dinners we had with Meemaw, I can only remember a few of them that we actually all sat down together to eat. Granted, with about seven to ten adults and six kids, it was hard pressed to have us all at one table.
Decadance in bloom
For Karl and I, Thanksgiving is a time to share our house and who we are with those that are closest to us. Yes, there is an amount of showing off our house all decorating in festive adornments. It is a chance for us to put on our chef’s hats and serve up some amazing dishes. It is a holiday of indulgence and one of the few times in which I let my strictness over what I eat slacken to some degree. But I am left with lingering thoughts of the unease that this holiday can often leave people feeling. It is also a time in which I sometimes wish we could open our houses to others that aren’t as lucky as to have all of those around us that we care for.
What about you all, what does this holiday mean to you? Do you have more positive memories than bad ones? Do you do it up or stay more grounded? Do you have a lot of family and friends over or do you keep it more intimate with only a small circle of those most important to you? Let me know in the comments below. Just remember, this holiday can be overwhelming to many. It often invites memories we don’t want to live, rent free, for a few months. If you need someone to talk to this holiday season, know that we, here at GayintheCLE, are here for you. Drop us an email and we will help out where we can. A happiest of Thanksgivings to you all.
Gay in the CLE 