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I'm going to write about Thanksgiving. I know it's early, and if I'm going to maunder on about a holiday it should really be Halloween at this point in time. But this fic reminded me of the Great Leaf Fight, and well...and it's long. I'm sorry.
Most of my father's extended family lives in or around or within decent driving distance of Huntsville, Alabama. There are a lot of them; I think at last count I had 23 first cousins on my father's side, many of whom are old enough to be my parents. (My father was 5th of 7 kids, the first boy, and 51 when I was born. You do the math.) There is an enormous official family reunion over the summer at the Olde Family Home (now in a state park), but the real gathering is at Thanksgiving. It's "just" the 7 brothers and sisters (those that are still with us) and their kids. We've had anywhere from 52-76 people present the times that I have been there, from new babies to Aunt Mary, our host, who is 95.
Everybody brings food, and Aunt Mary always cooks an enormous turkey, makes gravy, and her homemade rolls. There is much speculation as to who will get the roll recipe when she dies. The men, funnily enough, are the competitors here. First it was a fried turkey. Then an cajun fried turkey. Then venison. Then my brother brought doves. Then it was a fancy ham. Then my brother, for some unknown reason, brought a barracuda he had killed himself, thankyouverymuch. It got eaten, and he appears to have put the smackdown on the other guys. For now.
I have had the honor of making gravy the last few times I've made it out. This is apparently unheard of; I'm sure there is some arcane family pecking order I've thrown into disarray. I don't really care as we (brother, sister-in-alw, niece, nephew, me) show up to help, not just to eat, unlike a lot of the cousins. If helping means I get to make gravy, fine. And the first year I made it, everyone was complimenting Aunt Mary. She said, "No, I had Texas Lillian do it." (I am Texas Lillian, as I have a cousin named Lillian who happens to be Mary's daughter. She's a couple years older than me. I told you there were a lot of them.) The silence was deafening, until Faceless Young Boy #12 said "It's good! I want more!", and I was forgiven.
We do have a few traditions. The main one is the Great Leaf Fight, which happens after everyone has eaten and the kids (exiled to eat in the basement) have regained the power of movement. Everyone troops outside, grabs handfuls, and lets fly. Leaves are stuffed down shirts, dropped on heads, flung into faces, and sometimes stuffed into pants. No one is really safe; if you are on the front lawn (not the porch), you are fair game. Adults bury kids, little kids sneak up on their parents, and random relatives drop leaves on whoever wanders past. A few years back, a couple of the kids had a wagon and discovered the joys of drive-bys. This is so important, that if it looks like it will be rainy anytime bear Thanksgiving, Aunt Mary gets someone to bag the leaves so they will be dry. It is very silly, and I love seeing the looks on any new neighbor's faces when they are lured outside by the screams.
Then there are many group pictures on the steps, and we clean up, get the tables and silverware and chairs ready for the rental people to pick up, and everyone crashes for several hours. Then there is the Movie, and the next day there is barbeque. But those are stories for later.
I don't get out there for Thanksgiving very often. It's a 16-hour drive from Texas, and the aunts I really liked have passed away. Plus, with my tiny jewelry business, if I don't have shows that weekend I have them on every other weekend. So I often make gravy for friends. Not the same.
Most of my father's extended family lives in or around or within decent driving distance of Huntsville, Alabama. There are a lot of them; I think at last count I had 23 first cousins on my father's side, many of whom are old enough to be my parents. (My father was 5th of 7 kids, the first boy, and 51 when I was born. You do the math.) There is an enormous official family reunion over the summer at the Olde Family Home (now in a state park), but the real gathering is at Thanksgiving. It's "just" the 7 brothers and sisters (those that are still with us) and their kids. We've had anywhere from 52-76 people present the times that I have been there, from new babies to Aunt Mary, our host, who is 95.
Everybody brings food, and Aunt Mary always cooks an enormous turkey, makes gravy, and her homemade rolls. There is much speculation as to who will get the roll recipe when she dies. The men, funnily enough, are the competitors here. First it was a fried turkey. Then an cajun fried turkey. Then venison. Then my brother brought doves. Then it was a fancy ham. Then my brother, for some unknown reason, brought a barracuda he had killed himself, thankyouverymuch. It got eaten, and he appears to have put the smackdown on the other guys. For now.
I have had the honor of making gravy the last few times I've made it out. This is apparently unheard of; I'm sure there is some arcane family pecking order I've thrown into disarray. I don't really care as we (brother, sister-in-alw, niece, nephew, me) show up to help, not just to eat, unlike a lot of the cousins. If helping means I get to make gravy, fine. And the first year I made it, everyone was complimenting Aunt Mary. She said, "No, I had Texas Lillian do it." (I am Texas Lillian, as I have a cousin named Lillian who happens to be Mary's daughter. She's a couple years older than me. I told you there were a lot of them.) The silence was deafening, until Faceless Young Boy #12 said "It's good! I want more!", and I was forgiven.
We do have a few traditions. The main one is the Great Leaf Fight, which happens after everyone has eaten and the kids (exiled to eat in the basement) have regained the power of movement. Everyone troops outside, grabs handfuls, and lets fly. Leaves are stuffed down shirts, dropped on heads, flung into faces, and sometimes stuffed into pants. No one is really safe; if you are on the front lawn (not the porch), you are fair game. Adults bury kids, little kids sneak up on their parents, and random relatives drop leaves on whoever wanders past. A few years back, a couple of the kids had a wagon and discovered the joys of drive-bys. This is so important, that if it looks like it will be rainy anytime bear Thanksgiving, Aunt Mary gets someone to bag the leaves so they will be dry. It is very silly, and I love seeing the looks on any new neighbor's faces when they are lured outside by the screams.
Then there are many group pictures on the steps, and we clean up, get the tables and silverware and chairs ready for the rental people to pick up, and everyone crashes for several hours. Then there is the Movie, and the next day there is barbeque. But those are stories for later.
I don't get out there for Thanksgiving very often. It's a 16-hour drive from Texas, and the aunts I really liked have passed away. Plus, with my tiny jewelry business, if I don't have shows that weekend I have them on every other weekend. So I often make gravy for friends. Not the same.
