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My Crazy Family Makes Thanksgiving Even More Wonderful

Despite all the chaos, noise and mess, it is all worth it


spinner image a person holds a cooked turkey with question bubbles
AARP Staff (Getty)

“Where should I put this pot? Hurry! It’s hot.”

“Is there beef in this gravy? You know, I’m vegan now.”

“Where did I leave my wine?” 

“Watch out!”

As family members enter, the conversations crisscross through the kitchen like a chaotic freeway overpass system. My mind can’t decide which words to follow.

Some relatives are bringing food while others carry complaints, demands and strong opinions. Everyone has one thing in common: they all like to be heard.

Ice clinks into glasses. Drinks are poured. Bags of chips and nuts are ripped open. My daughter rearranges my refrigerator to her liking.

Through it all, I hear my 99-year-old mom’s voice calling from her chair.

“Where am I?”

“You’re in the living room,” my granddaughter says, annoyance disguising her sadness.

“Who are you?” My mom’s words bite the air. I wish she could control her anger. “Where am I?”

I ask myself the same thing. Where am I and how did I end up in this crazy family? I couldn’t love any one of them more than I do, but sometimes in the middle of the bedlam, I question my sanity in hosting the holidays.

My family members range in age from 13 to 99. My husband is a disabled Vietnam veteran. My granddaughter is an idealistic liberal. One grandson is a convinced conservative, while the other is addicted to his games. My daughter is maintaining her sobriety, focusing her attention on helping others in the AA program. An ex-in-law drinks too much. My mom is in a place known only to her.

With so many differences, I pray to every god imaginable — Yahweh, Jesus, Buddha, even Aphrodite — that no one will storm off tonight, leaving behind an empty seat and a lump in my stomach.

To keep peace, I search for non-controversial topics to bring up at dinner. But even the weather — once a safe subject — can now lead to a fierce debate over climate change. Nothing, not even the gravy — actually especially the gravy — is free from debate.

No one wants to sit next to my mom. It’s not that she’s a messy eater, but she is not much of a conversationalist. On the other hand, no one wants to sit next to Uncle Manny either. He’s the relative who knows everything about anything. Mention an African safari and he understands how elephants think. Mention a skin rash and he knows the cure.

We have enough drama for a blockbuster holiday movie

Eventually, we are all seated.

There are a few moments of quiet as we go around the table giving thanks for the past year and wishes for the future. When my daughter mentions she hopes we are all together next year, my thoughts turn to my husband. He’s in the house but not at the table.

I feel him next to me and peace settles on my shoulders. 

But then my youngest grandson knocks over a glass of red wine. A few dribbles land on my daughter’s new jeans. There is yelling and scrambling for a towel. Voices rise to the ceiling.

Not even the prospect of some delicious turkey will keep my dog under the table once the commotion begins.

Just as we settle back into place, I refer to a transgender cousin as a “she” instead of a “they” and all hell breaks loose.

“Grandma, why can’t you remember?” I’m not sure which grandchild asks that question.

“Why? Because my brain was formed in the 1950s.”

And we’re off to races. Everyone has an opinion. Everyone is talking. No one is listening to anyone but themselves. I ask myself how I can go through this. Do I even want to?

The answer is simple. Yes. I do, with all my heart. Because at some time during the evening, there are those other moments. When my daughter and grandson, who have been arguing for weeks, push all those angry words out the window.

When I realize I am one step closer to becoming the oldest generation in the family.

When my mom asks what holiday is being celebrated as her great-grandson cuts her turkey into small bites. When my daughter comes up behind me, gives me a big hug and tells me she loves me even though the fridge is a disaster. When the kitchen is filled with laughter and chatter as dishes are dried, stacked and put away.

A cacophony of sounds, enough to drive one crazy. But the silence would be unbearable.

In those moments, there is enough heart to challenge any Hallmark film ever made. Through the best and worst, they are always my family. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

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