My family’s Thanksgiving gatherings – like those of millions of other Americans – can be joyous -- or brief shards away from broken hearts. Each depends upon the year before.
For so many middle years – when I was young and my parents were middle-aged and healthy and my grandparents alive – contention arrived with the usual nonsense that later makes great stories, such as the time my grandmother and my Aunt’s father-in-law went ten-rounds over something having to do with Metamucil. I do not (thankfully) remember the details. Or the time that everyone except my father’s late uncle’s second wife’s sister’s ex-husband’s sons were the only ones who didn’t cancel – and we had the best after-turkey team Trivial Pursuit game ever. For brevity’s sake, I will not go into the arduous details of the Thanksgiving that went from eight to twenty-eight due in large measure to a dental supply conference in New Jersey.
For many years, we went to my Dad’s Uncle’s house for Thanksgiving. (He mixed a mean Bloody Mary and had a wonderful cat that I loved so much.) Before that, we had gone to my Dad’s Aunt’s house in New Jersey. There, my cousin, who was a zoologist and penguin expert, wowed the younger set with 8mm movies of his trips to Antarctica and the penguins. I absolutely loved him.
When my Dad’s uncle died (of pancreatic cancer, calmly, at his beach house, with his beloved dog and cat, after refusing treatment), Thanksgiving moved to our house.
By that time, our uber-Protestant family had increased – and there were Catholics, Jews and one Buddhist at the table. My Dad spent weeks before each Thanksgiving finding appropriate words to say for each faith tradition at the table. It made the celebration more meaningful. Nothing, however, did anything to quell the . . . um . . . enthusiasm of post-dinner team board game rivalries.
For many years, I have been the chief cook at our Thanksgiving dinners. I have a never-fail turkey recipe, as well as good recipes for Hubbard squash, stuffing, various other root vegetables, and several kinds of pie. (I made “authentic” Pilgrim stuffing with chestnuts one year, which involved hours of boiling and shelling. It did not go over well. )
Moreover, having done Thanksgiving for groups ranging from two to 30 for years, I know how to time everything and get everything to the table when it is hot and good. As my family would say, I also know how to round everyone up and get them to the table on time. (As a side note: this is not always viewed as a strength.)
I also know how to lead the ecumenical prayer that precedes our dinner. From my Dad, I learned enough Hebrew and Japanese (phonetically, and probably badly pronounced) to include everyone. We have always offered prayers or special thoughts and a toast to absent friends. It is part of our tradition.
What is not part of our tradition and what I did not and do not know how to do is this: Two weeks ago, my brother-in-law was diagnosed with a bad form of cancer. He is 41.
On Monday, he will begin an arduous course of chemotherapy and radiation. We are all grateful, this Thanksgiving, that he has excellent health insurance and a job that will permit him to be away (without worry) for the seven weeks of his initial treatment. But this was a Thanksgiving like no other – because he is our carver-in-chief (having taken a course in carving at Butterball) and because he is one of those amazing people that we are so glad to have had joined our family and because we love him so much.
Ten years ago, at a family Christmas Dinner in California, he said he was grateful to be a part of our family because he could, on Christmas, enjoy a filet dinner (our family’s tradition) instead of Chinese and a movie. We all laughed. And we all had seconds.
He is the father to three of the most wonderful children I have in my life. He is the most amazing uncle my nieces have. They love him so much. So do I.
We could not be together this Thanksgiving weekend, which was like no other, and I pray for health for my dear brother in law. May he be cured, very soon.
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This Thanksgiving weekend has been doubly hard with the announcement of the death of my friend, and our amazing community lantern lighter exmearden.
My heart overflows with gratitude for her presence here on earth, and in this community.