I sit here on the couch, wrapped up in a lovely Paw Patrol blanket bestowed upon me by my lovely Little Bonus One, sipping a small cup of coffee. I can only have small amounts of caffeine since this year I'm pregnant. I've got the laptop in my lap. My husband, sitting to my left, is playing a game of South Park on his phone. My Older Little One sits to my right playing Forza on the Xbox. From my seat, I can look outside through the blinds on the door and see that it is overcast. It's raining right now and will rain all day, making it a nice, chilly, fall day. Luckily, it is not a heavy rain, but since it will rain all day, we are projected to get several inches of rain.
Because today is Thanksgiving, this year I thankfully do not have to work at all this week. I am very blessed to have accepted a new teaching position for this academic year and have my accustomed vacation time. It's pretty awesome.
This time last year, I had to work Thanksgiving and Black Friday. Dexter, my Bonus Little One, had the worst ear infection of his life. His fever had spiked to 104 degrees during the night, making sleep impossible. Jake was sick and had it coming out both ends. I couldn't stay home and nurse either of them during the day, although I had been running between bedrooms every night that week. We didn't even get a turkey that day, which is fine. I think I made Thanksgiving rice for both of them to eat while sick for Thanksgiving 2016. Despite the crappy situation, it was certainly memorable. I was thankful that both of them began to feel better later on that day.
Thanksgiving with my parents and family has always been memorable, though.
As is the case with most Americans, unless your family is indigenous to the area, my family immigrated here during the 1900s. Each one of my grandparents came from a different country. They brought their own country's traditions with them and integrated them into their new American lives here.
One memory that sticks out for me is when my paternal grandmother, or Abuelita as I liked to call her, came here in the late 1960s. She lived here for 20+ years without really speaking any English, save "Hello" and "Wrong Number", but she still managed an attempt at making her version of Thanksgiving dinner. The last Dinner she made for us was in November 1990, right before she had a series of strokes that eventually ended her life. I was seven years old. I remember that we all went to her house in KCMO.
 |
| I don't remember her house looking that nice when I was a kid. |
It was cold that day. My mom and I sat in the living room with Papá Giovanni and Tía Anita and my Tia Maggi. She had Papi and Tio Giuseppe help her take the turkey out of the oven. One thing I remember about the spread was that there was white rice, beans, salad, spaghetti con pesto, and a purple turkey.
As I mentioned before, my grandmother may not have spoken English, nor understood the reasoning behind the American obsession with celebrating certain holidays with gusto, but she was still going to try! Her preferred type of meat would have been chicken or what I like to call "Shoe Leather Steak" which my father still prefers to consume to this day. Still, she cooked the turkey to the specifications laid out by my mom, albeit one little detail. The reason it was purple was that she had basted it with red wine.
If anyone knows anything about basting poultry, you know you don't baste it with RED wine. White wine is best. My mother recalled that she had requested a slice of turkey breast since Mom doesn't like dark meat or anything but the breast. However, my mom did not realize a woman so steeped in her own Ecuadorean culture was not going to let a little Americana dictate WHAT kind of cut she wanted. Rather, she was going to give the best parts of the bird to her sons which in this case, was going to be the breast. Mom said she sat there, miffed because her request had fallen on deaf ears. It wasn't until my mom recounted the story for me recently that I had to explain that it didn't matter what my mom wanted. Men in Latino cultured are placed above the woman's wants and needs in many households. Even if the breast if purple, it was going to be given to the men in the family.
Another Thanksgiving about ten years after my grandmother had passed away, my sister Sandy came from Illinois for a visit. She practically made the entire Feast from scratch and by herself. Mom contributed the green bean casserole. Papi set up the table, which had been borrowed from Mom's coworker. The table was an old card table that sagged in the middle by itself.
Mom said that we needed to use the fine cutlery and the wedding china that she had received as a gift from their wedding in 1982. I set the table with the dishes and silverware. Sandy had me mash and cream the potatoes while she made and dressed the bird with homemade stuffing. (Sandy, by the way, is an excellent cook.)
Mom said that we were going to have Thanksgiving Dinner at 2 p.m. Since it was just going to be the four of us, Sandy, myself and my parents, we really weren't going to be doing anything special nor having other people come over. Mom didn't even hop into the shower until 1:45. One thing about my mom is that she takes FOREVER to do things.
Once the food was ready, Sandy, my dad and I place the items on the table. The table began to wobble and sag even more from the weight of the platters and casserole dishes.
Two o'clock rolls around and of course, my mom is STILL in the shower. 2:15 comes around and mom hasn't even left the bathroom. 2:30 arrives and my dad is pissed.
"Fuck this! I'm HONGRY!" and with that, my father rips a leg off the bird and begins gnawing on it.
Sandy and I look at each other and dig into the meal and start eating when all of a sudden, my mom finally comes down the hall wearing a nice dress.
"ugh! That is NOT FAIR! I said to be ready by 2 o'clock and you're already eating without me!" exclaimed my mother.
"What do you want us to do?! You said 2:00 and now eets 2:45!!! I'm hongry, dammit!" shouted my father in response.
My mom pouted and shook her fists at us for not waiting for her. She sat and grumbled throughout the entire meal and still couldn't understand why we didn't wait for her, even though she was 45 minutes late and we were starving.
Eventually, I would spend Thanksgiving dinner with my high school friend Misty and her family since after that disastrous card table incident, my parents would then go to "Old Country Buffet" for any major holiday dinner.
We would still see the Plaza Lighting Ceremony, which is one of the most beautiful light displays for the holidays that I have ever seen.
 |
| Photo from KansasCity.com |
The last time I went to see the Plaza Lighting Ceremony was Thanksgiving 2003, the one before I moved to Florida in 2004. My friend Misty, her cousins Chris and Shawn, piled in my car after dinner to go see the Lights. However, everyone and their brother had the same idea, so we were stuck in traffic for about 2 hours. We never ended up seeing the Lights because Shawn kept complaining that he had to pee. We were on our way back to Misty's house when some jerk in an old Suburban with high beams kept flashing his lights in my rear-view mirror. Annoyed with the fact that I was being blinded, I shook my fist at the driver behind me. Well...that upset him to no end and he ended up following us all over Mission Hills, KS. Being totally freaked out, we were about to call the cops when I ran through a stop sign. Perhaps it was a divine moment, but a cop was sitting in the dark at the intersection and pulled me over. I explained what had happened to the police officer. She inquired as to why we hadn't called the cops. I explained, "We were just about to when you flashed your lights at us! My friend in the backseat also has to pee really, really badly." Shawn kept repeating, "I have to pee!!!" in the backseat over and over again. The cop lady was really nice about it and let me off with a warning. Meanwhile, the jerks behind us slowly drove past us and gave us the Bird and then drove off quickly.
Saint Augustine, Florida is about 30 minutes from where I live in Jacksonville. The first Thanksgiving I spent here was in 2004 without my family. It was strange, but also exciting to be "on my own". It was the first time I had ever had "Sweet Potato Soufflé". It was AWESOME! Later on, I spent the evening wandering around St. Augustine's version of the Plaza Lights, "Nights of Lights". Of course, I'm still partial to the Plaza Lights, but Nights of Lights is truly beautiful. Anything stationary is dripping with lightbulbs, albeit plain white ones.
 |
| View from the Marina - Photo from VisitStAugustine.com |
Thanksgiving 2009 was AWFUL! We spent it with an aunt who LOVES to be immersed in the American culture, being that she had married an American man. Unfortunately, she did not have one iota of Turkey baking sense. She had stuck a 16 lb. frozen turkey in the oven at 220 degrees only two hours before dinner was supposed to start. The turkey was also stuffed with the following ingredients: ground beef, cubed ham from Sav-A-Lot that was had pink dye running from it, and canned peas. Apparently, that stuffing was the bomb diggity. Just remembering it now just makes me want to barf. I remember that GC was about 2 years old and had been toddling about her house. Tia had invited one of her nephews that was studying in South Carolina to drive down for the holiday, so he was excited to try his first American Thanksgiving. When I arrived at her house, she was sitting in her massage chair and had exclaimed in Spanish, "Ay Renata! Estoy super felíz que estás! Por favor, ayudame con el pavo porque no sé como cocinarlo."
When I opened the oven door, a frozen turkey greeted my presence. I asked Tia how long she had baked the turkey for. She had mentioned she had only placed it frozen two hours before in the oven. When I looked at the temperature she had the oven set at, I noticed it only read 215 degrees. Under my breath, I remember telling GC's dad, "Oh holy hell...this is going to be a horrible meal". Her heart was in it, but not her skills.
The following year, in 2010, was one of the last times that I made the turkey for my ex's family. His family, being Dominican, didn't really buy into the whole Turkey dinner thing. They preferred roast pork with beans and rice and salad. Being that I also did NOT want a repeat of what had happened the year before, I was determined to make all the food myself. I woke up at 4 a.m. to prepare the brine for the turkey. I made stuffing, green bean casserole, cranberry sauce and mashed potatoes with gravy. I also prepared the ingredients for what I was going to baste the turkey in as well as stuff the turkey for its time in the oven. I made rosemary garlic butter, wine basting sauce, and chopped apples, oranges, lemons, garlic bulbs, onions and shoved them inside the bird. I baked the bird for about 6 hours, basting every so often to make sure the turkey remained juicy.
Once everything was ready, I told the family that dinner was ready. They ate everything but the stuffing. Tia's American husband/ex-husband, Tom, walked up to me and said in his Southern drawl, "Hey Rey-nata! That was the best damn turkey I've ever had in my life!" Even my ex, who told me he hated turkey, said that he actually enjoyed the meal and that it was probably some of the best turkey he had ever had.
Anyways...still, Thanksgiving has always been memorable...
This year, we plan on going to a friends house for dinner tonight and then come home. The weather may keep us inside, but I am going to get my stuffing this year! Baby Luca demands it!!!
Hopefully next year, I can go home for another Thanksgiving with all three of my kids and it will be fun and memorable.
Happy Thanksgiving to all!
