McDonald Family Thanksgiving

It’s the day before Thanksgiving and mom, Laurie (my big sister) and I get the stuffing ready. Chopping onions and celery, cubing bread until there was a mountain sitting in the middle of the table. Mom’s homemade butter melting on the stove in the smallest stainless steel pot we have. Mom gets out her gigantic yellow Tupperware bowl and we all scoop up the bread cubes and throw them in. Mom adds in her special blend of seasonings, the sauteed vegetables, chicken broth, chopped meat from the giblets, (except the liver-the dog gets that-thank goodness), and butter. She mixes and tastes, mixes and tastes, adds more broth and butter, a little more sage and salt, until it looks and tastes just right. We stuff the bird full and there’s a little leftover for dad’s oyster stuffing that mom puts in a little oven safe dish --- all for dad. Not a problem cause nobody else is gonna want it. Yuck!

It’s 6:00 a.m. Thanksgiving morning and still dark outside. Mom’s in the kitchen putting the bird in the oven for a 1:00 o'clock supper. Dad’s getting the fire going in the wood stove and I’m snuggled under my blankets. I want to get up to help mom, but I don’t. I wait until the house warms up a bit and think about who’s coming for Thanksgiving dinner later. This year it’s Grandma and Grandpa McDonald along with the Forenpohar clan: Uncle Vern, Aunt Andy (who I am named after), John, lil Vern, Meg, Bruce, and Melanie. I can’t wait til they get here.

Bird in the oven, mom heads to her favorite chair with a cup of coffee and reaches for her bible. She reads for a spell while sipping her coffee. I get up once the place feels good and warm and because I’m too excited to stay in bed any longer. I head over to see what mom wants me to do. Her eyes are closed so I retreat since she is prayin’ now. She prays a lot so I don’t want to disturb her. I turn to walk towards the kitchen but hear a little ppppfffttt instead. She’s not prayin’, she fell back asleep. I rattle a few pans, you know, just enough to wake her up but not to scare her.

Once awake, mom grabs one more cup of coffee and gets the rolls going. I don’t tell her that her recipe is never as good as grandma Ferguson’s cause I don’t wanna get that look she gives dad when he tells her that her mincemeat pie isn’t as good as her mom’s. Once the rolls are rising behind the wood stove in the living room, mom starts peeling the potatoes and getting them cut up. She cubes them and lets them set in a big pot of salted water to cook closer to supper time. Meanwhile she starts working on the green bean casserole. I don’t know who came up with this simple concoction, but they were a frickin genius. I could eat the whole casserole dish full.

The dogs are barking like crazy so I run to the windows to see who’s coming up the lane. It’s the cousins. Hot dang! Grandma and Grandpa are hot on their heels. Once everyone has given out their best I haven’t seen you in forever hugs, us kids set up the card table and monopoly board.

“Girls get in here and start setting the table please,” mom yells out long about noon. The cousins pitch in and help too. Mom and Aunt Andy set out the home made pickles and then open up a few cans of black olives to set out on the table. Uncle Vern comes in at chats up mom basically so dad can sneak some pickles and olives without mom seeing. Us kids just wait til no ones looking and sneak the olives. When mom notices they’re almost gone, she yells out to "knock it off and wait until dinner" then refills the near empty dishes.

Mom’s checked the bird at least ten times it seems. When it’s finally done, she pulls it out and dad begins carving it up. Mom makes sure to make the gravy because grandma made the gravy last year and once you got through the two inches of solid grease, you found the gravy underneath. It was gross.

We all find a seat around the table after the turkey and all the fixins find their spots on the table. The table has two leaves and we add the card table to the end. It fills the kitchen, so once you sit down, there’s no moving. “Are we passing to the right or the left,” asks Uncle Vern who knows it’s supposed to go to the right, always. Dishes clink, spoons clank, and laughter is rampant as plates fill to the brim. There’s a momentary lull in conversation when all of us have a spoonful of something or another. Moans of absolute bliss are bouncing back and forth across the table. “Doris, this stuffing is the absolute best,” grandma says, “You’ve outdone yourself this year.” Dad blurts out, “Anybody wanna help me eat this oyster stuffing?” He gets one taker,Grandpa McDonald, but that is all.

We get up after we’re stuffed to the gills and can’t eat another bite. Kids first, who stack their dishes by the sink so we can have the card table back. We start another game of Monopoly while the adults get a pot of coffee brewing. They sit around the table to talk and talk and talk. After what must have been the longest game of Monopoly ever, Mom gets a gallon of milk out of the fridge and Aunt Andy scrapes the heavy cream off the top. She finds the egg beaters in the drawer and starts whipping it up. Once the cream is good and stiff, she adds a skosh of sugar for just the right amount of sweetness.

We have pumpkin and coconut cream pies this year. Mom cuts while Aunt Andy plates the pie. I grab two pieces of pumpkin for Grandma and Grandpa because they get their pieces first, of course. As I set a piece in front of grandpa he says, “I only like two kinds of pie,” in a deadpan tone. I start to pick it up cause apparently I got him the wrong kind. He gets a huge grin on his face looking me straight in the eye and asks me, “Do you know what two kinds I like?” "Apple and chocolate cream," I guess cause they are my favorite kinds. He chuckles and pats me on the head when he says, "Hot and cold." “Oh Grandpa,” I say, my arm reaching around his shoulder to hug him. I give him a kiss on the forehead and go back to helping serve the pie.