We Tell it Like It Is

Pete & I are hosting T-day this week for the first time. Pete traditionally is in charge of the turkey, which he cooks on a charcoal grill, but he is a bit apprehensive this year because he won't have his brother-in-law Dan backing him up like he normally does. But, I think things will be fine. I am in charge of some of the side dishes and apple pie; plus getting this house cleaned and the table looking pretty. Murphy's Law of course, we are involved in the most time-consuming files right now and have had nearly no time to even think about this holiday coming up in less than 48 hours.

I am full of stories, for those of you that know me well, and can come up with something funny to tell for just about every holiday. Here's one for T-day for your reading enjoyment:

I was about 19 years old and had been dating a young man for a little over a year (not Pete!). He and his family were Russian Jewish immigrants who emigrated to the US in the mid 80's. Our families were quite different and they were both apprehensive about us dating. My boyfriend & I felt that it would be a great way to break the ice by getting the families together for Thanksgiving, and so his parents graciously agreed to host the meal at their house in attempt to make us kids happy. Things were shaky from the start when my family arrived--my mom, dad, and my dear aunt who incidentally, was dealing with some early stages of dementia. I come from a Scandinavian family of blue collar workers who believe Perkins is a fancy restaurant and have never had the opportunity to commingle with anyone that was not Caucasian, American blue collar workers like themselves. So, this whole holiday was a very new and bizarre experience for them. My boyfriend's parents were barely fluent in English and were not exactly happy that their son was dating a blond, Sandra Dee, poster child for the Arian race. They never imagined they'd host a family like mine for such a holiday like Thanksgiving. We sat in silence for a good minute or two after the initial introductions, when the family cat entered the room. My dad innocently bent over and attempted to pet the kitty, who immediately let out a growl and took an aggressive chomp into his willing hand. Mortified, we all sat frozen as blood began to appear as my dad tried to respectfully shake off the incident like it was no big deal. Not a good start, I thought. My boyfriend's father rushed into the bathroom to retrieve a first aid kit--it was pretty funny to see both men who had never met before struggle to wrap gauze around the bleeding hand as frantic apologies were being made in both English and Russian from both parties. Soon, luckily, it was time to sit at the table and eat. I knew there would be trouble as I helped bring bowls of steaming food to the table; the contents of them unidentifiable. I never thought about the fact that my meat and potatoes eating family may be turned off by the Russian cooking, which may not be a traditional stuffing-potatoes-cranberries-kind of dinner. My family apprehensively spooned small portions onto their plates and I could read my mom's mind as she thought about what she'd be cooking for dinner as soon as they got home. The silence was broken again as my dear, dementia-stricken aunt spoke up and wanted to say a prayer. I suddenly braced myself. A strong Christian woman she was, I feared she would forget that our hosts were Jewish and say something that would make us all concomfortable (as if that feeling wasn't already there x10). Before I could stop her, she bowed her head and closed her eyes and spoke with great emotion: "Dear sweet Jesus our Lord. We thank thee for the bountiful gifts you've given us and for so bravely dying on the cross to save our sins..." And I was praying too--please God, use your powers to make me disappear from this table right now.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone.