Thanksgiving escapades
Do you have an unusual story from a Thanksgiving Day? Or one that was funny or nutty somehow? I think I do—one I spent with my father and step-mother seems to qualify. It may not be too funny or nutty, but it was different (that coat!), and it was snowy. And for this Florida girl, that was unusual. As I think of it now, it was the last time I ate turkey in a dining room when I could see snow on the ground out the window.
New Hampshire 1993
I hardly ever see snow anymore and don’t miss living in it. I grew up in Maryland and later lived in Ohio, so I know how much work it is to live with snow and ice. But VISITING snow once in awhile is okay and sometimes even enjoyable. And I did enjoy it during Thanksgiving in 1993.
Who was I in 1993?
At the time, I was divorced, working a few jobs, and taking classes part-time at Rollins College. The other part of the time I spent studying like crazy and keeping an eye on my daughter, Rachel, who had just entered college. She wanted to spend that Thanksgiving with her boyfriend, so when my Thanksgiving break came around, I decided to do as so many others in this country do that weekend: book a flight on one of the busiest holidays of the year!
I wanted to visit my father, Joseph Lamy, and step-mother, Gabrielle, who lived in New Hampshire. I yearned to see those two. It had been about three years since we’d been in each others’ company, and during that time, I’d gotten divorced. Major change! Rachel’s dad and I had met while in The Way (what I view as a fundamentalist cult), and even though we left that organization after 17 years in it together, our marriage fell apart as we took different avenues in our post-cult life.
Due to my Rollins class schedule, I had to leave for Manchester, N.H. on Wednesday evening, the eve of turkey day.
The layover
I couldn’t get a direct flight from Orlando to Manchester, so I had a long layover somewhere … I think it was at the JKF airport in New York. Not sure about that, but I am sure the waiting area at the gate was surprisingly hot, small, and crowded. (Nod to Thomas L. Friedman’s book, Hot, Flat, and Crowded: Why We Need a Green Revolution—and How It Can Renew America.)
We waited and waited and waited some more in those airport gate chairs. I was exhausted from the semester, from working non-stop (it felt like), and in some ways, also from continuing to unravel from my divorce only two years earlier.
Sleep? I tried to. It was a challenge to get comfy in that waiting room chair. I desperately wanted to nap, but the chair’s seat felt like concrete. I had only a sweater and jacket for padding. Living in Florida didn’t require a heavy winter coat. If I’d had one, I could’ve rolled it up and slept against it. Anyway, despite the loudspeaker’s intermittent squawking, my eyelids grew heavy, and I dozed off.
No, I didn’t sleep through the announcement to board the plane
When I arrived in Manchester, it was cold, hilly, and not crowded at all. The airport isn’t huge, and I quickly spotted Dad and Gabrielle waiting at the gate, no problem. Out of nowhere I broke down in tears. Tension I’d stored up seemed to jettison right out of me. Their comfort and attention warmed me, too, despite the cold blasts of northeast wind.
No doubt, that tension came from not only current stresses, but every Thanksgiving brings back memories of my mother, who died the day before Thanksgiving in 1968 when I was sixteen. I mourn her, still. Four years after this Thanksgiving, my dad passed away on the 4th of July, 1997. He had a dry sense of humor. I can imagine he’d say, “I wanted to go out with a bang!”
The coat
It was too cold for my jacket and sweater to do a good job, so when we went out to dinner, Gabrielle kindly loaned me one of her coats. Whoa! I’d never worn anything like it. It was fake fur, patterned like a leopard. I felt warm, for sure, but also a bit conspicuous. When we walked in the restaurant, I wanted to shout, “Really, I’m not trying to look like Greta Garbo!”
That’s it, really. Like I said, maybe not too funny, but unusual for me. Thanks for reading!
Happy Thanksgiving to each and every one of you.
If you care to, jot down a bit of your unusual Thanksgiving story in the Comments section.
Your writer on the wing,
Charlene
Linda Goddard
I enjoyed reading your Thanksgiving story, Charlene.
I will have to give some thought about my Thanksgiving story that might be entertaining.
Time right now doesn’t allow me to do so or write about it.
There was a Thanksgiving at my brother and sister-in-law’s house in 1969, when, after a few too many beers, my brother pulled the huge turkey, sizzling in its huge pan, out of the oven.
And in his oven-mitted hands, pulled the pan a bit too hard. Yup! The pan and all its contents- big fat stuffed turkey and drippings-fell sideways off the oven rack, pan and turkey sliding separately across the kitchen floor.
I can’t remember any more details, but I think this story falls in the nutty and unusual category.
Have a good and blessed Thanksgiving!