Harangue, meringue and pass the marmalade...

1. Start your story with someone saying “Thanks a lot” (sarcastically or sincerely).

“Thanks a lot but no thanks to harangue, meringue and pass the marmalade” I said to myself as a child whilst my mom was stressing out cooking Thanksgiving dinner...although I would coin the latter part of that phrase years later. What I meant was the family headache that is Thanksgiving...I hated it! I didn’t care for the food, or at least the bland way my mother prepared it, nor the relatives, or the shear stress you could cut with an electric carving knife...none of it. As a kid, I decided I would have steak instead for Thanksgiving once I grew up...problem solved. 

Those years passed, and I had kids young, and always had to plan three holidays in one for any major event; one for us, one that my mother insisted on continuing [God forbid she would ever come to my house, or even let my sister in law nor I help], and one for the ex for visitation. I remember literally vibrating with a throbbing headache once I got in the car with my kids to leave my mother’s to the next location. ‘What’s wrong, mom?’ I would hear from one of my kids in the back...my hands shaking too much to start the engine.

It got to where my mother wouldn’t even turn the oven on, her memory so bad, and the bland, watering mashed potatoes were inedible...but we must keep tradition, mustn’t we? I wasn’t the great cook I am now, but did appreciate good food, so started doing cheeky things like pick up bagels and locks [we aren’t Jewish], or a nice cottage pie, or something ethnic, trying to break the tension. The only thing I was ever entrusted to bring was Cool Whip for the three traditional pies my mom would make, as she would never remember that ingredient. Mostly, especially after Christmas when I would find myself alone early in the day after dropping the kids off, I would go home and cry...a sweet release from all the tension of the day. I would take off my matching the kids dress, but on grubby old sweats, and watch Sound of Music and ball...alone in the dark. Ain’t having family great? I thought the idea of them was to not end up alone on holidays!

My life became a turbulent series of ups and downs; it was not all typical suburbs and white picket fences. Much of my adult life I ended up spending in England, where my dad’s family came from. I love the Yorkshire people, I get their sense of humour and honesty. But it took me years to find that, so there was a lot of detours along the way. I lived in Cambridge for a while, with my youngest daughter, who ended up spending a lot of her upbringing there. But the relationship I was in there was volatile; his moods were up and down like Jekyll and Hyde. We loved each other, no doubt, but when the moods would swing, I would take my daughter and head to London for a bit. She always thought it was for fun, which in part it was, but I would see the black clouds coming and knew it was best to get out of the way.

Eventually, with finances and years of yo-yo living, I couldn’t afford this mini escape, and his moods got worse, and finances were bad. It was so bad, my daughter and I had to be rescued by an organization to help women that go abroad and get in trouble, having no rights or access to money. My daughter had already started college in the UK, but in going back she would have to complete two years of High School in one to graduate with her peers, which she gladly did. That was the year I suggested the steak...we technically had nowhere to go, so stayed at my daughter’s best friend's home. It was an apartment, some of us were sleeping on the ground, but I was grateful. After our Thanksgiving meal [they had turkey], I walked the distance in the dark and worked all night for Black Friday, having picked up two minimum wage jobs at the mall. I did what I knew best; worked hard and dug us out. We had our own place in a fortnight…

My daughter graduated, started college and eventually moved out. I spent much of my time alone, but knew I really wanted to find love. Eventually, I moved back to England, to volunteer at my ancestral home. It was fulfilling and I got on well with everyone, and customers loved the girl with the American accent. I started doing voice-overs, and singing again. This is, of course, when an pandemic hit, so returning to the States wasn’t an option. I had some savings and a small retirement, but I hadn’t so much as set up utilities or a bank account when I moved to a different place when it hit; I was in a pickle. 

Long before that, I met my partner, the man I feel destiny wanted me to meet. I had a business based there before, but didn’t really visit. I didn’t know his house was on the other side of the brewery where I imported beer to the States. Now that garden is where I pick vegetables for our tea! But, being a foreigner still meant he had to commit. The Home Office dragged their feet on my visa for two years, and lost my passport, yet wanted me to return back to the States with the border closed. It was joy and a nightmare all at the same time. 

We celebrated several Thanksgivings together. The third one, this year, seemed extra special. I am under so much stress to get a job and/or have to return, because I have no savings left. And my visa says we need to move it or get married, and my partner won’t discuss that, so it leaves me feeling uneasy. Still, I planned the whole condensed turkey meal, because as he says, this year it is just the two of us. First off, to make a pumpkin pie in England is the devil, because there is no such thing! Sure, pumpkin pie spice lattes have become popular, largely due to coffee shops, but there is no canned pumpkin. So, we had to grow the pumpkin [my partner is a farmer, and won a contest for the biggest pumpkins in the village], we had to hack it up, I reduced it and spent hours whipping at it with a mixer to get the equivalent of one can of pumpkin. Then I had to make the crust from scratch since I wanted a buttery crust, and fortunately we had the spices and condensed milk. Whew! Two days of work on that! They don’t sell whole turkeys here until December 19, but I prefer a crown [turkey breast] anyway, seasoned with Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme...just like the song, with butter and garlic under the skin. Many years ago, I created what my kids called Momma’s Killer Mash, a skins-on savory version of my mother’s watery ones. When my oldest daughter was in college, she called my mom asking for the ‘family’ recipe, not realizing everything I did was my own way. I always had us say grace, and go around the table and say what we were thankful for. The other thing is, I do it all with grace...trying not to stress. One time, when I worked a fulltime job and two part time ones when my kids were young, I cooked the whole meal in 20 minutes! There was a picture of me afterwards looking exhausted. 

Anyway, this year was special. After working in my ancestral home with the boilers not working again, I made a special cocktail, I called ‘Turkey-la Sunrise’, with cranberry in the bottom of the glass, and appetizers. The turkey and veg from his garden were perfection, killer mashed potatoes and sweet potatoes and the pies. Afterwards we were sitting on the couch, and I noticed my partner was being extra sweet and affectionate. I finally asked why. He said, “because it is Thanksgiving! We are supposed to be grateful and kind, right?” I laughed and said, “No! If you were in America, you would see family members drunk, someone complaining about who spilled the gravy in 1978, guilt trips and fights!” I guess he didn’t get the memo! I realized I had finally started a new tradition that stuck...