Gobble, Gobble Hullabaloo

Prompt: A family argument gets out of hand. Neither side will budge, requiring a mediator with unusual methods.

Gobble, Gobble Hullabaloo

Thanksgiving has always been a special time for our extended family year after year. Both sides of the family are invited. Uncle Ralph, Aunt Clara, Uncle Joey, Aunt Betsy, and cousin Ralphie from my dad’s side would come. From my mom’s side Uncle Bert, Aunt Dotty, and Pauly would grace us with their presence. Unfortunately, my grandparents on both sides of the family were no longer with us. Nana Tootsie and Papa Freddy passed last year. We all miss them so much. For me I miss them the most because they were a stabilizing influence during Thanksgiving. No one from either family would dare to get out of line because Nana or Papa would call them out. Their reprimand process would last the duration of the meal as they would recount their experiences from their bygone days. Their admonition droned on to where we would miss much of the first half of the televised football game. Nonetheless, my grandparents would stifle commentary on anything divisive from politics, sports, and even the meaning of thanksgiving itself.

But now they were gone. So, this Thanksgiving I approached the festivities with trepidation.  Thus far everything seemed normal. The dining room table was festively adorned with mini paper turkeys and mom’s best china. A floral centerpiece consisting of brightly colored mums was surrounded by yellow gourds and miniature pumpkins and orange lit candles.  Her exquisite stemware was arranged carefully around the place settings. I noticed, however, that I did not smell the intoxicating aroma of a cooking turkey. There was only a pot of water on the stove top. I guessed it was in preparation for the mashed potatoes. I wondered if the other arriving family members would bring the turkey and additional side dishes this year.

Ralph and Clara were the first to set foot into the house.  My parents and I greeted them warmly as they downed their coats and winter gear into my arms. Once I discharged my pile of outer garments onto my parents’ bed, I quickly took note that Ralph and Clara presented two bottles of wine to my mom.  That was it. No turkey, no side dishes. Then the big stuff must be with Bert and Dotty or Joey and Betsy.

It was not long before the doorbell rang. It was Joey and Betsy. I must have looked like a coat rack because again their coats flung in my direction and I was tasked to unload them onto my parents’ bed. I looked over my shoulder to see that Aunt Betsy was handing my mom a small casserole dish.  I thought that would only be enough to fill my pet Schnitzel’s dog dish. Oh boy! Hope was now resting on Bert and Dotty to bring in the goods.  My mouth watered and my stomach growled like a bear.

Zing, zing went the doorbell again. Yes, I thought to myself! The turkey has arrived. It was Uncle Bert and Aunt Dotty alright. Dotty held a small casserole dish. Uncle Bert was holding onto a bag of corn chips and dip. Ugh! Where was the turkey? Where was the stuffing and everything else? I looked at my mom from the corner of my eye. It was my imagination, but it looked like she was spraying more steam from her ears than a steam iron set on high.  Yet she smiled graciously at Bert and Dotty. By the way, I just flung their coats on top of Mount Apparel. 

I had enough of this mystery dinner game. In my frustration I asked my mom where was the turkey. She looked at me with daggers in her eyes saying, “My son you will get your turkey”, and she stormed into the kitchen. Our hope (mostly mine) rested with my cousins Ralphie and Pauly. Two words characterized my cousins: immature and irresponsible.  We were all doomed, I thought. Just in that moment loud banging interrupted the conversations of the people seated at the dining room table. I opened the door seeing Ralphie and Pauly each holding a single serve pizza box.  Both cousins were nibbling the slices as they made their way through the door. I felt miserable. I suspected mom would be equally distraught and disappointed.

Pauly and Ralphie took their place at the dinner table along with the rest of the family. They continued to munch on their slices to the awe of the rest of the family. Pauly said, “Ralphie and I don’t eat fowl. We avoid animal protein,” saying this in defense of their food choice. I held my head up with both hands as I felt a gnawing headache coming upon me.  I looked into the kitchen seeing my mom standing by the pot of boiling water. She opened a large package placing the contents into the pot. Within a few minutes she drained the water and placed the pot in front of all us.

Uncle Bert made the mistake of identifying the contents of the food in the pot. He yelped “Why these are hot dogs! What the heck? You expect us to eat these?” he said annoyingly to my mom.  My mom calmly responded, “You are darn tooting. By the way they are grade A turkey hot dogs.  Should help your weight control Bert!”  So, the flurry of harsh, stabbing dialogue began.

My mom lamented, “Why is it every year I have to provide the turkey bird, the mashed potatoes, the stuffing, the green bean casserole, the pies, the rolls, even the venue of my home? You are ingrates. All of you!” I never saw my mom unleash such venom on anyone.  Then Aunt Betsy countered. “I asked you what we could bring, but your usual answer is oh just bring yourself. There will be plenty to eat.” Aunt Dotty was livid too. Her anger though was directed at Betsy. She lamented, “Betsy, you always assume you don’t need to help or bring anything. You take all of us for granted.”  Dotty tried to keep the peace, but no one could hear her since she was so soft spoken. I could tell she was mad as hell also.

A real hullabaloo started when Bert, Ralph and Joey launched into each other throwing negative comments about each other’s wives. Meanwhile Ralphie, Pauly continued to munch on the pizza oblivious to the yelling that was erupting.  And where was my dad in all this?  He cowered in his recliner watching the football game until my mom pulled him from the chair by his ear. All the time she scolded him for being non-supportive of her effort, year in and year out.

Bert blurted out “No way I am eating these hot dogs.  Schnitzel would not eat them either.” Bert in a fit of rage reached into the pot pulling out a few dogs flinging them all over the table and floor. My idiot uncle scalded his hand yelping in pain. Schnitzel ran amuck snarfing up the dogs on the floor and then he jumped onto the table. That was the beginning of the end, so to speak. Glassware went flying everywhere.  Several pieces of my mom’ special china and stemware were smashed. The gourds rolled onto the floor causing Aunt Dotty to trip and fall face down. Meanwhile Joey and Ralph started to push each other around the table calling each other’s son a doofus and bonehead. Fisticuffs ensued.

Schnitzel’s devastation was not finished. His feasting quickly ended when he knocked over the lit candles.  It took several minutes for anyone to notice as the candles ignited the tablecloth and paper turkeys.  Fortunately, I had my cell phone to dial 911.  I got the immediate response, “What’s your emergency?” I choked out a reply to “Send the fire department and police. It is utter mayhem in this house! Help!”

It was only a matter of a few minutes before the rescue squad, firemen and the police domestic unit arrived on the scene. The fire was contained. Thankfully, no one was hurt, but the dining room was destroyed. One would think my story would end here but my moronic family (including mom and dad) continued to argue and yell at each other while the first responders were still there. The on-scene sergeant was so annoyed by everyone’s behavior he ordered a police van to come and get us. He arrested every one of us on the spot and had us taken down to the station.  Hot heads still prevailed while all of us (including Schnitzel) were in the van. Once we arrived at the station everyone became silent.

Given that this time is usually slower than most for the police, we all were compelled to face the holiday judge immediately.  He had a stern look about him.  I thought he would read us the riot act. But there was compassion interlaced with a dire warning. “In my years behind the bench I have never witnessed such hostility within such a large family, especially on Thanksgiving. Maybe disorderly conduct for one or two members but from eleven people?  I would call it a hostile mob. I feel sorry for you people. Family? I think not. Aside from paying the fines for disorderly conduct and for requiring emergency services, I order all of you for the rest of today and once a week for the next year to collectively serve at the local food kitchen cooking, cleaning, and serving the homeless and less fortunate. You must do this collectively as a family unit. No ifs ands or buts. No exceptions; otherwise, it is jail time. The van will take you over including the dog as a support animal. I pray you learn from this community service the true meaning of what an integrated family should be by what you see and experience in service.”

We were all speechless. I could tell though everyone understood what he or she had done. The food kitchen was actually not far from my house. We disembarked from the van. The manager was made aware of our required service prior to our arrival. The manager directed my mom and aunts to the food preparation area. My dad and uncles were assigned as meal servers and beverage dispensers. Sadly, I was relegated to dishwashing duties along with my doofus cousins.

When I was not washing dishes, I looked into the dining hall to see how the rest of my family was doing. The guests were polite and gracious, not just to my family but to each other.  They seemed like one large extended family as most knew each other from the streets. Many were dressed in shabby, worn winter clothes. Some looked haggard and dirty, particularly the few children that were there. Nonetheless, all were ecstatic to be served a simple, warm meal of mashed potatoes, gloppy gravy, canned corn, processed turkey meat from a meat chub and corn stuffing with cranberry jelly. Many of the guests were animated talking amongst themselves with a lilt of joy in their voices. A few were quiet, but mindful of the soup kitchen efforts to feed them.

When dinner had finished and the kitchen duties were completed the guests filtered out back into the cold streets to look for temporary housing.  My family decided to gather in a private room at the kitchen. Immediately my father offered up a prayer of thanksgiving which included a reference to the community of men and women they had served. My aunts were so moved they hugged each other. My uncles were still aloof about their experiences and a cloud of annoyance hung over their heads.  In my heart, I believed that over time the police mandate would change all of our hearts to bring us outside and far away from our selfishness.

My Nana and Papa knew and lived in the abundance and graciousness of God. I learned that on a day like Thanksgiving they never wanted unwholesome talk coming from our mouths. They would say every day is a gift from God and we should always do our best to lift others up, especially when it is family. Papa would say there is no one who is outside the family of God because we are all created by Him. Tomorrow is not guaranteed. One never knows if we would see that person ever again.

 If a family is divided, it cannot stand. (Mark 3:26, NIRV)

Sons do not honor their fathers. Daughters refuse to obey their mothers. Daughters-in-law are against their mothers-in-law.  A man’s enemies are the members of his own family. (Micah 7:6, NIRV)

But keep away from foolish disagreements. Do not argue about family histories. Do not make trouble. Do not fight about what the law teaches. Do not argue about things like that. It does not do any good. It does not help anyone. (Titus 3: 9, NIRV)

God has made everything. He is now bringing His many sons and daughters to share in His glory. It is only right that Jesus is the one to lead them into their salvation. That is because God made Him perfect by his sufferings.  And Jesus, who makes people holy, and the people He makes holy belong to the same family. So, Jesus is not ashamed to call them His brothers and sisters. (Hebrews 2: 10-11, NIRV)

Glory and power belong to Jesus Christ who loves us! He has set us free from our sins by pouring out His blood for us. He has made us members of His royal family. He has made us priests who serve His God and Father. Glory and power belong to Jesus Christ for ever and ever! Amen. (Revelation 2: 5b-6, NIRV)

NIRV=New International Readers Version

Author: Pete Gautchier

Acknowledgement: Reedsy.com