Christmas Dinner

A Seabolt Christmas Dinner

For brothers Billy and Vernon Seabolt, Christmas represented a sacred time of year. A harmonic convergence of the F-words--food and football. The women, on the other hand, approached the holiday with the kind of excitement normally reserved for cleaning the refrigerator or squeezing into pantyhose after a barelegged summer.

This year was going to be different. Billy and Louise's son, Warren, had brought his new wife, Vickie, to the family celebration. After college, Warren had moved to St. Louis where he taught history at a community college. And it was in St. Louis that he had met his wife. The family got along fine with her as long as they didn't talk politics, religion or babies, since she wasn't planning on having children any time soon.

Billy was proud of his son, but he wondered what had become of the boy he used to take fishing. He still looked the same, although his hair was a little longer. He still wore jeans and a flannel shirt. It's just that his clothes seemed to fit him better. Billy couldn't quite put his finger on it, until it struck him like the third hurricane he had in that bar in Mobile. Warren's jeans were pressed.

The women--Louise, Pauline, and Sylvia, the oft-married but presently single Seabolt sister--vowed that this Christmas would be different. Spurred on by the braless liberator, Vickie, they announced plans for the men to prepare the Christmas feast. 

"That'll be fun," Warren said.

"What are you, nuts?" Billy asked his son, articulating perfectly the thoughts of Vernon, who only spoke when spoken to. "Men don't cook."

Vickie smiled at her new husband. "Warren cooks."

Billy looked towards his son and growled.  

"I'll tell you what, boys," Pauline said. "If you cook the turkey and make the sides, I'll do the pies."  

"And I'll help her," Louise volunteered.

All eyes were on Sylvia who traditionally found a way to get out of cooking and always went for a smoke when it came time to clean. "And I won't get married and bring a stranger to dinner," she finally said.

Laughter subsided as they recalled husband number four, the man she brought home the previous Christmas, who had spent dinner trying to sell them AmWay products.  

Negotiations continued. Billy finally agreed to cook if the women agreed to clean up afterwards so the men could watch football. The women agreed readily because, although they would never admit it, they enjoyed the bonding-by-dishwashing ritual as much as the men enjoyed their football.

"I'm just glad your grandfather didn't live to see this," Billy said to his son, only half-smiling.

"You'll see, Dad. We'll enjoy it." Billy returned to his more customary growl. Warren turned to his Uncle. "Uncle Vern, it won't be so bad. I promise."

Vernon felt like he had to respond to his nephew. "Uh-huh," he said.

Since it was Vickie who got them into this, Warren felt responsible. He spent hours on his laptop gathering advice on how to pick out the perfect turkey, prepare it, and stuff it.  

Billy, still pondering the proper way to pick out a turkey, suggested it might be easier to just go shoot one. "There are a lot of turkeys out there I wouldn't mind shooting," he said to his brother.

"Uh-huh," Vernon replied.

Both men looked at Warren.

Billy asked his son, "What's this about cleaning the bird? Can't we get one without feathers?"

Warren was never sure when his father was kidding. Still, he explained patiently that the feathers were plucked but the inside of the turkey had to be cleaned and the various organs dealt with.

Vernon looked up and almost spoke.

"Son, if you want to put yourself through all this, feel free. But I vote to pick up a nice roasted turkey at the supermarket. We'll get the side dishes there, too. What do you say, Vern?"

"Uh-huh," he said, adding a rare comment. "What about creamed corn? I like creamed corn"

"Sure."

Vern shook his brother's hand. "Count me in. I'll pay my third."

"But it's Christmas," Warren said. "It's tradition, isn't it? To cook from scratch."

The two older men laughed. "You scratch," Billy told his son. "I'll use my scratch to buy dinner."

"Uh-huh," Vernon said, repeating, "I'll pay my third." He stared at his nephew.

"Tell you what," Warren said. "I'll pay my third and I'll prepare the creamed corn. From scratch."

On Christmas Day, the men sent the women to Pauline's home to prepare the desserts. Sylvia apologized, saying she had an important meeting she couldn't avoid. She arranged to meet them for dinner. Louise and Pauline shook their heads. "Then you clean up," Pauline said.

"Four o'clock. Sharp," Billy told her. "And don't bring home a husband."

"You sure you don't need any help?" Louise asked. "I still haven't seen the bird."

"It's all under control," he assured her. We'll be picking it up when you girls leave. And Warren has a recipe for stuffing." He was proud of himself for not lying since Warren had accumulated at least six different stuffing recipes.

Wynn-Dixie prepared a fine turkey with cornbread stuffing, mashed potatoes with scallions, green beans, and cole slaw. Warren was shocked to discover the store had no fresh corn.

"That's fine by me," Vernon said. "I like it better from a can."

At home, the men decided that setting the table was too much trouble, so Billy got the bridge table from the basement and announced they would eat buffet style. By four o'clock, the food was displayed on the bridge table, plates and glasses were stacked nearby, and a cooler full of soda and beer rested beside the table.  Warren bought wine for dinner, Vickie's favorite Pinot, and Merlot for himself. The older men, he knew, preferred Budweiser.

When the women arrived, they offered the obligatory oohs and ahs. Sylvia, never one to miss a meal, was on time. "I'm impressed," she said. "I didn't know my brothers could cook. Warren must have done all this by himself."

"No," he said. "Just the creamed corn."

Louise agreed how impressed she was with the spread Wynn-Dixie had prepared. "If you're going to try to fool us," she told her husband. "You should throw away the supermarket containers."

"I never tried to fool you," he said, adding, "I know better than that." Billy and Louise hadn't been married for nearly thirty years by accident. "Just remember. You're in charge of clean-up." 

At the table, the family offered the usual holiday prayers and thanks. When Billy announced he was most thankful that Christmas came only once a year, the women in unison shouted, "Amen."  

Vernon offered a special thanks that Warren and Vickie could join them. "Without them, I wouldn't have my corn."

Billy smiled at his son and nodded.

After dinner, Billy said, "Time to watch the game." He stood up, cut himself a slice of pie, and walked to the TV room. Vernon grabbed a plate of creamed corn and a huge drumstick and followed him.

All eyes were on Warren. He looked at Vickie.

"Go," she said. "We'll clean up." 

In unison, Louise, Pauline and Vickie rose from the table and stood guard at the door as Sylvia reached for her cigarettes.