A Wild Turkey Thanksgiving

 

Peace I leave with you,

my peace I give unto you;

not as the world giveth,

give I unto you.

Let not your heart be troubled,

neither let it be afraid.

                                                                                    -- John 14:27

 

All I did was email a simple question of my friend and fellow writer. She's a gracious great-grandmother who lives in the South. Innocently, I asked, "What are you doing for Thanksgiving?"

 

Upon receiving her reply, my hair is spiked and my eyes are permanently crossed. We're talking a cast of thousands - a Thanksgiving table that by necessity will have to be longer than the dining room . . . the house . . . the ZIP CODE.

 

Where are they all going to sleep? How are they going to decide who gets the wishbone? Think of the noise! The hubbub! The towels on the bathroom floor!

 

It gives me one more thing to whisper a prayer of thanks for on Thursday, that OUR much-smaller gathering will have more of that most precious gift - peace. Although it WOULD be fun to be a little bird observing all of this. . . .

 

Let's call this great-grandmother "Sugar." First, she has to "pay big bling" to board her two small dachshunds. Then Sugar and her husband, who has mild to moderate Alzheimer's and does best in consistent, simple, quiet surroundings, will fly to their vacation timeshare, which is near the home of their adult daughter outside a Southern city. So far, so good.

 

But. . . .

 

The Thanksgiving festivities are planned at the daughter's home, in a newly-developed, gated equestrian community. Sugar says the family is like Dr. Doolittle's: they have four horses, three dogs, several cats, five birds, Bert and Ernie the fish, a rabbit . . . and a partridge in a pear tree.

 

The last time they visited, Sugar's ankle was mistaken for a carrot by Bunny-bun . . . a highly extroverted, 60-pound yellow Lab puppy disappeared with her husband's precious stash of Reese's peanut butter cups . . . and Sugar awakened with a cat on her face, which gave her quite a start and new meaning to the term "bed hair."

 

But the invitations go far beyond the great-grandparents. In addition, Sugar's son, his wife, and their two young blue-eyed blonds will join the family from another city.

 

Now, the son-in-law has a sister described as a "type A, alpha female," who lives in Hawaii. She and her husband are coming all the way to this get-together, apparently overcome by "dreams of holiday nostalgia."

 

The Hawaiian couple's son and his wife "thought it would be terrific to fly in from Seattle to surprise everyone."

 

Not to be outdone, the Hawaiian couple's brother-in-law and family are driving in from another faraway city, too.

 

Meanwhile, Sugar's oldest grandchild is married to a "Sweeto Burrito" from South America. Sugar describes her granddaughter and Diego as "small, dark and handsome . . . dead ringers for Flamenco dancers together. Of course, their daughter, Isabella Josephina . . . I do not make these things up . . . is a diminutive diva, with chocolate drop eyes and dark ringlets."

 

This darling child's other grandparents live in yet another Southern city. Of course, they want to spend Thanksgiving with this beautiful young family. So they are driving in, too, with Diego's "bodacious" sisters, and an auntie or two.

 

And here's the corker: Diego's grandmother also may fly up from Bogota. She knows little English. When you greet her, Sugar wrote, she smiles and gives her one-size-fits-all greeting: "Tequila!"

 

The funny thing is, the lady of the house - Sugar's daughter - the hostess OF the mostest - was OUT OF TOWN when all of these plans were being made . . . by her husband. That's what you get for going out of town!

 

Sugar explained, "When she dragged home and found out who all was coming, she was livid. After a few choice salvos, translated to mean, 'How COULD you?!?' to her well-meaning husband, he just shrugged and replied, 'Well, you shoulda stayed here.'"

 

 Then again, he is Italian. So he's used to a lot of relatives at holiday time . . . and they ALL are amazing cooks . . . usually, all at the same time. "They OUGHT to be good cooks," Sugar confided. "They use every last pot, pan and utensil in the house."

 

The host and his son usually do two turkeys. One is brined and eventually swirls inside a Big Green Egg. Sugar wrote that the other is deep-fried, "which terrifies all of us over a certain age." 

 

The South American contingent also loves to cook. They are planning to prepare some inventive South American traditional holiday dishes. Sugar wrote, "If some guest cannot eat garlic, onions, chili oil, exotic spices, well? . . . as we say in the South, 'Tough Titty.'"

 

Just getting there is challenge enough for the elders of the family. Besides Alzheimer's, Sugar's husband of nearly 60 years also has chronic back pain. So airline travel is tough. Sugar always makes sure to look wan and pitiful - "no blush or bronzer, wearing a somewhat ill-fitting beige sweater" - so that the airline staff will take pity on them and go the extra mile to help them.

 

She has rented a car. But she dreads having to drive at night. Ever since her cataract surgery, the strings of streetlights, even stoplights, blink a bright white ring that really interferes with her driving. But she has to: because of his medical condition, her husband had his driver's license revoked.

 

Sugar wrote, "He remains in a state of rage and resentment" that he has to be chauffeured around by his wife. He criticizes her every move. So, she says, "I am thinking seriously of getting one of those Fisher-Price red plastic steering wheels, with its own horn, lights and clicking turn signal. I warned him that the next car I lease will have an eject button for the front passenger seat."

 

Her husband also decides to disinherit everyone "at sundry intervals," so the family has suggested that his NEWEST new will be drawn up in pencil.

 

He fired his internist, his neurologist, and selected members of his immediate family when they took the car away. So it's unsure just how he's going to act around all the hubbub. Of course, he might surprise them and have the best time of all!

 

For some semblance of order, their daughter-in-law has offered to print up a playbill of "Who's on First," cataloging the family relationships and names, sort of like a football team's roster without the numbers. But Sugar is bringing the equivalent -- nametags -- for her own sanity.

 

She also has made sure to help out with the food bills in advance, to lessen the impact on the host and hostess. "Any family 'do' is usually softened and sweetened when we throw money at the children," the practical great-grandmother confided.

 

Through it all, you can tell Sugar has no fear, and is really looking forward to this unique, terrifying, clamorous, all-American-Hispanic-Italian feast. Tequila!

 

"Everyone is a good Christian, so the loaves and fishes parable will carry the day," she wrote. "Of course, none of the earlier followers had to deal with three squares a day, four cases of wine, and card tricks to keep everyone cheery."

 

But she's confident. "The lovable members of all these families are rousing company, good sports, attractive and entertaining," Sugar wrote. "They are stimulating to be with . . . and, are not related to me. That's why I trust in the Lord that 'most everything will fall (emphasis on 'fall') into place."

 

But one thing gives her pause, as the seasonal pilgrims converge:

 

"Since our host's compound is within a gated community, I wonder if the thought has flashed through their minds:

 

"'Don't give anyone the security code.'" †