ON THE SUBJECT OF THANKSGIVING

Task 43, November 21 to November 28

“It wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without a little emotional scarring…” Timothy Burke, “Friends”.

When you are as old as I am you’ve sat at many, many Thanksgiving tables. At some you’ve been the host, or you’ve been invited to a relative’s house, or you’ve been part of what’s commonly called an “orphan Thanksgiving”--an assemblage of a motley group of strangers.

At every Thanksgiving meal, no matter the circumstance, there will be a) a drunken aunt/uncle/brother/mother/grandmother; b) someone who goes outside to smoke a cigarette or joint/vape; c) a sadly overcooked turkey/cold stuffing/burnt yams; d) a side, such as a 3 bean salad, that no one wants to eat (the all-timer? Only in L.A. side? A guest brought “Organic Heritage Cranberry Foam” one year); e) a weird dessert, such as a gluten-free pumpkin pie; f) someone who falls asleep on the couch during the football game; and g) did I mention the drunk person?

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And the injuries! 1) We always gave my sons the wishbone to pull apart. For good luck. And it was fun when they were young, but as they got older the tradition became a competition, and one year they pulled it so viciously that one half flew into my older son’s eye…hello emergency room. 2) At halftime of the football game, in the near dark, we would always go outside and throw a football around. One year throwing around became tackling, and cousin Brian, who was 6’4”, 200 lbs., and hammered from cheap wine, tackled aunt Clara, who was 5’1”, 100 lbs., with the ferocity of Jack Tatum (look it up–the called him “the Assassin”) and knocked her unconscious. And what was Brian’s reaction? He stood over her and celebrated. 3) My wife’s mother had never tasted Jaegermeister before. And for the reader who has never drank Jaegermeister, it is a volatile mix of sickeningly sweet syrup and grain alcohol. A guy I worked with at KABC in the 80s drank a bottle of it one evening and woke up in a Tijuana jail, bald and tattooed. Anyhoo, one of my wife’s cousins brought a bottle to our Thanksgiving meal a few years back and Grandma took a liking to it, and after her fourth drink she fell down a set of stairs, head over ass, and landed hard. Hello emergency room again. 4) My friend Steve picked up a roasting tray without using gloves. 5) My wife broke a tooth on a chestnut. 6) My uncle decided to “fluff” the mashed potatoes using a hand mixer set to warp speed. The potatoes flew everywhere and sprayed a geyser of steam directly into his face.

But finally, and most importantly, Thanksgiving meals have a way of being…heartwarming. For example, for over 20 years my wife and I hosted the yearly Thanksgiving meal. There was a core group of maybe 10 people, relatives and very close friends, who came every year. And every year my wife told me to invite anyone on my staff who didn’t have anywhere else to go. Well, if you had known me back when I was a corporate executive, you would know that I wasn’t the kind of boss who did much mingling with the staff–I was more of the “do your job and leave me alone” kind of boss. I didn’t start off being a prick—as a matter of fact, early on I was the back-slapping, “let’s hang out” kind of leader, but 20+ years in the corporate trenches, innumerable lay-offs, HR meetings and office politics, made me hard-hearted and stand-offish when it came to my relationship with the rank and file.

But I digress. Anyway, one year on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, I overheard some of my staff discussing their Thanksgiving plans. Everyone except Arnoud (he’s French). He was not especially popular–he was a brash braggart, given to giving advice and pontificating, and generally annoying. I knew, without asking, that he had nowhere to go for the holiday. So I closed my eyes, swallowed my disdain, and asked him to come over to our house.

And he came. He brought flowers for my wife. By the time we sat down, he had us laughing. By dessert he was family, and ten years later he was still coming over to our house for Thanksgiving, the last three with his girlfriend.

Happy Thanksgiving, and pass the Jaegermeister!