It's one of American history's most familiar scenes: a small group of Pilgrims prepare a huge November feast to give them thanks for a bountiful harvest and show them their appreciation to the Native Americans who helped them survive their first winter. Together, the Pilgrims and Native Americans solemnly sit down to a meal of turkey, pumpkin pie, and cranberries.
Of course, if given a second chance, I'm almost postive that the Native Americans would have stayed at home instead of dining with people who would later steal their land in exchange for smallpox infected blankets. Thanksgiving was not a time to socialize with people other than your family. Which is why I couldnt understand why my cousin Camille invited her boyfriend Devin for dinner.
They met one afternoon during football practice, in classic Americana style. He was a lineback, she was a cheerleader, so their paths were obviously destined to meet. There was nothing really wrong with their relationship, except for the fact, nobody could understand how Camille didnt notice Devin's ginormous bobble head-head. It was like a Macy's Parade Balloon he had to balance on his shoulders. It was such an easy laugh, how could I not take full advantage?
I convinced Devin that Thanksgiving was not just a day of giving thanks, it was also a day to give your girlfriend a gift to show your apprieciation and gratitude for not breaking up with you. I'll admit it was a little underhanded and devious, but it was all in good fun and if anything I was actually helping their relationship last longer than one of Pamela Anderson's marraiges...in some, not so obvious, sorta way...
After Devin left to try and find an open store and a good gift, I told my cousin Camille to light every candle in the house and she did, including the candles next to my Aunt Maria's wreath of dry goods. The wreath of dry goods was a craft project, made out of twigs, cotton, and dried lemon and lime wedges, that my aunt had found in an old-fashioned Better Homes & Garden book. No one noticed the flaming candle until we we were about to sit down for dinner. That's when my little cousin blew it out. Or at least, tried to.
Instead the flame just sorta leaned back and ignited the wreath of dry goods into a wreath of fire, which in turn, ignited the satin curtains. The entire dining room was ablaze and so my Uncle Art ran out to get the water hose, while the rest of the family formed a line, passing the Thanksgiving dishes back into the kitchen, hoping to save my Aunt Maria's antique tablecloth from destruction. By the time my uncle got back into the house, the floor to ceiling china cabinet had caught on fire and once again we formed another line to save the good china, for fear it would all come crashing down into a million pieces as orange and yellow flames continued to dance across the china cabinet.
And while we dealt with the problem downstairs, upstairs, my little cousins were dealing with a problem of their own. Remembering their safety lessons from school, each one of them called 9-1-1 until two fire trucks, an ambulance and several police cars came to the front door. I guess it's not really a Tellez Thanksgiving until the fire marshall comes to your house. As we sat outside in the backyard and had a picnic style Thanksgiving, I couldnt help but feel bad for adding to Devin's preset notions about our family.
And I dont know if it was because we were sitting outside, or if because there were new people at dinner this year, or if because my mother didnt make the turkey this year, but I started to think that for some reason, Thanksgiving didnt seem like Thanksgiving this year. It just seemed like any other day, only with enough food to feed Cambodia. And I know Thanksgiving is more than just food, parades, and getting two days off, but this year...I dont know. It seemed that that's all it was this year. When you're a kid, there's an certain je nais se quois about Thanksgiving that makes it a fun, family holiday. But when you get older that you discover there's an actual process to develop that "magic" you once held dear to your heart. And I wonder if it'll be like this for the rest of my adult life?
Of course, if given a second chance, I'm almost postive that the Native Americans would have stayed at home instead of dining with people who would later steal their land in exchange for smallpox infected blankets. Thanksgiving was not a time to socialize with people other than your family. Which is why I couldnt understand why my cousin Camille invited her boyfriend Devin for dinner.
They met one afternoon during football practice, in classic Americana style. He was a lineback, she was a cheerleader, so their paths were obviously destined to meet. There was nothing really wrong with their relationship, except for the fact, nobody could understand how Camille didnt notice Devin's ginormous bobble head-head. It was like a Macy's Parade Balloon he had to balance on his shoulders. It was such an easy laugh, how could I not take full advantage?
I convinced Devin that Thanksgiving was not just a day of giving thanks, it was also a day to give your girlfriend a gift to show your apprieciation and gratitude for not breaking up with you. I'll admit it was a little underhanded and devious, but it was all in good fun and if anything I was actually helping their relationship last longer than one of Pamela Anderson's marraiges...in some, not so obvious, sorta way...
After Devin left to try and find an open store and a good gift, I told my cousin Camille to light every candle in the house and she did, including the candles next to my Aunt Maria's wreath of dry goods. The wreath of dry goods was a craft project, made out of twigs, cotton, and dried lemon and lime wedges, that my aunt had found in an old-fashioned Better Homes & Garden book. No one noticed the flaming candle until we we were about to sit down for dinner. That's when my little cousin blew it out. Or at least, tried to.
Instead the flame just sorta leaned back and ignited the wreath of dry goods into a wreath of fire, which in turn, ignited the satin curtains. The entire dining room was ablaze and so my Uncle Art ran out to get the water hose, while the rest of the family formed a line, passing the Thanksgiving dishes back into the kitchen, hoping to save my Aunt Maria's antique tablecloth from destruction. By the time my uncle got back into the house, the floor to ceiling china cabinet had caught on fire and once again we formed another line to save the good china, for fear it would all come crashing down into a million pieces as orange and yellow flames continued to dance across the china cabinet.
And while we dealt with the problem downstairs, upstairs, my little cousins were dealing with a problem of their own. Remembering their safety lessons from school, each one of them called 9-1-1 until two fire trucks, an ambulance and several police cars came to the front door. I guess it's not really a Tellez Thanksgiving until the fire marshall comes to your house. As we sat outside in the backyard and had a picnic style Thanksgiving, I couldnt help but feel bad for adding to Devin's preset notions about our family.
And I dont know if it was because we were sitting outside, or if because there were new people at dinner this year, or if because my mother didnt make the turkey this year, but I started to think that for some reason, Thanksgiving didnt seem like Thanksgiving this year. It just seemed like any other day, only with enough food to feed Cambodia. And I know Thanksgiving is more than just food, parades, and getting two days off, but this year...I dont know. It seemed that that's all it was this year. When you're a kid, there's an certain je nais se quois about Thanksgiving that makes it a fun, family holiday. But when you get older that you discover there's an actual process to develop that "magic" you once held dear to your heart. And I wonder if it'll be like this for the rest of my adult life?
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