A very Woodward 1986 Thanksgiving, Part 1

Note: Sensitive topics include mental health and sexual dysfunction due to wartime PTSD.

November 23, 1986

BANG! The front door opened and slammed against the wall. I nearly fell off the sofa. I quietly hoped the large lead glass pane in the door was okay, which means my thoughts were the quietest event in the house for at least the next 7 nights.

“Charles! We’re home.” That’s my grandmother, Odella Woodward. She hates it when I call her “Grandma” or anything similar. When I first used that term, I was 4 years old, and she told me that she wasn’t old enough to be a grandmother, so I was to call her Odie. The same goes for my Grandfather, who came in the door right before her. I am to call him “Dick,” which seems oddly appropriate.

Odella is 62, with dark hair and a white streak across the top. In some ways, she reminds everyone of Ann Bancroft. She has a gap between her front teeth, and her mouth is always open, with the smell of stomach acid leaping out like demons trying to capture your soul for eternal damnation. Her hair always starts well put together, but within an hour, she starts talking with her hands, and her hair becomes a casualty to her expressive stories that “must be told.” She dresses well, but her clothes are always about ten years past their fashion due date, or maybe that’s just me being queer. In fairness, the entire family looks like they returned from the dead, or the 1970s, which is essentially the same thing to me. Their smell of scotch, mothballs and spearmint gum confirms it.

My grandfather, Dick, is in the kitchen and already annoyed. “Big Dick” is what I call him when I talk to my friends about my family. For some reason, today, he is wearing “mom jeans.” They are just a little too big and too high on his waistline. I rarely see him in jeans at all. He’s a slacks kind of guy—the pleated ones.

“ODIE! Stop squawking at the boy and get in here. We have things that need to be refrigerated,” Big Dick said.

Odie gave me a big, awkward kiss on the cheek, which left a residue that I couldn’t (or wouldn’t) make out without looking into a mirror. She quickly got up and moved promptly to the kitchen.

(knock knock)

Finally, there was a polite knock on the side door that opened to the dining room. When it closed back, I saw the sweetest, most beautiful man ever to walk the face of the earth. His name is Curt Ryan, and he’s my boyfriend. He just turned 16 in January, and I turned 18 in June. His superpower is that he is known all over the region as one of the most promising basketball players Since Magic Johnson and has won more awards than I can count anymore. Even my friend Greer Thames in Chicago has heard of him, he said on a recent phone call. You can almost always catch Curt in basketball shorts, but I’ve nearly broken him of that habit, especially in the winter. Today, he’s wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and his letterman varsity jacket, which he is very proud of. It’s red with white sleeves and a big “S” on the front, “8” on the right sleeve (his jersey number), and a basketball patch on the left sleeve.

“Did I come at a bad time?” Curt asked. “I’ve never heard this much noise in your house before.”

“I’m glad you are here. They just arrived 20 minutes ago, and my ears are not acclimated to them yet.”

“Who's all here?”

“Just my grandparents.”

Curt’s eyes swelled to double their size. “Kev. Do I need to get you out of here? Don’t you have like 20 more people coming?”

“Yes.” I looked at Curt and slowly started crossing my eyes to drive home the point that I was already losing my mind.

“Yes, to which?--” Curt asked but was interrupted.

“Well HELLLLLLLOOOOO,” Odie said to Curt. “Who might you be?” Odie could be very inappropriate with handsome men of any age.

“Odie, please be good,” Kevin pleaded. “This is Curt Ryan.”

“I noticed you didn’t say friend, so I’m going to assume that he’s–”

“Odie!” I interrupted. “You’re not wrong. Haha.”

Odie closed her mouth and twisted her fingers as if locking her mouth and throwing away the key, but couldn't stop herself from saying “Love is love is love is sex is love…” and dancing around in circles, bumping into the sofa's edge before she stopped.

“Curt?”

“Yes,... Um, ma’am?”

“I brought a bottle of the most wonderful Chardonnay. Could I pour you a glass?”

“He’s 16,” I said.

“Oh, I was sure a man of your stature was at least 18.” Odie laughed loudly. “So how ‘bout it then? Half glass? Quarter glass?”

She put two fingers over my mouth so I could no longer object. This reminded Curt of when I did that in the tent in April, right before we fooled around. He looked at me like “Wow….” and I gave him a knowing look and winked.

“Whatever you feel is appropriate, but I can’t promise I will be able to finish it,” Curt said politely.

“I’ll finish it if you don’t. I’d drink your bath water.” Odie said, as she took off for the kitchen in search of wine glasses, rattling everything along her path and asking ten questions before reaching the cabinets.

“Oh… my god,” I said to Curt. “I am so sorry. Are you sure you want to date me and be around the lunatics?”

“Let’s play it by ear.” Curt jokingly said.

“Fair deal.”

”you should take your jacket off. The twins will likely accuse you of wearing the Scarlett letter.”

”Who?”

”You’ll see.”

Janey and June

Curt felt something cold and wondered if the front door was open. He turned around suddenly to find two blond girls about 5’5” wearing skirts with extremely muscular legs, but skinny torsos, standing there with their heads tilted, looking at him intently. They said absolutely nothing. One popped her gum. The other just blinked once.

“Oh! “ Curt said, semi-frightened. “Kevin, you have more…”

“Okay, this is Janey and June. Ladies, please knock it off,” I said to the twins.

“Are you here with someone, or just… Kevin?” June asked.

“I’m here with Kevin.”

“So you’re a princess, like Kevin, then,” Janey said as she dropped her hand at her wrist in an offensive gay mannerism.

“You are too fine to be a f-g,” June said.

“Okay, you two. You can haunt Aunt Myrtle now. She’s floating around in the attic somewhere. Commune with the dead where you belong.” I said.

“You can’t speak to us that way, Kevin. You are living in OUR house,” June said.

“Go cry that to the house ghost, June,” Kevin said, finishing the conversation.

Janey and June stomped off, but not necessarily in defeat. They never thought that they had lost anything. They were entitled to everything, the way they saw it.

“Ugh, house ghost?” Curt asked.

“Myrtle is who built this house. She’s why we have enormous windows and doors. She also died here.” I said somewhat ominously. “Ya scared? Anyway, Janey and June have a strong ghostly vibe. They are total mean girls, so whatever they say, don’t react to it. Try not to even be shocked by it, because that’s what they thrive on.” I explained. “They drive a Camero. Need I say more?”

“Huh?” Curt asked.

“Have you ever known anyone of good moral standards who drove a Camero? I didn’t think so.”

“Oh, this is going to be so much more this week than I had imagined,” Curt said with exasperation.

“And that’s just the first two siblings. Granted, they are the creepiest,” I said.

“Who is the next craziest that I should be aware of?” Curt asked.

“Singer. She will just start screaming like she’s a lobster being boiled alive, and it’s never for any reason except that she just thought of something that horrified her. I think it somehow expresses embarrassment resulting from never having even a day of therapy.”

“Okay….” Curt responded. “What did you say she went to school for?”

“Nursing. Yeah.”

Odie returned with a quarter glass of wine, clinking it with Curt before he downed half of it.

“Oh, Curt. You’ll need to save the other half just before Bess and Singer arrive. They will be here any minute. I’ve got your back, and I know how my kids are. Annoyingly weird.”

Odie said this as if she didn’t know that she was also weird. She sipped her wine, embracing oblivion, because that’s what it took for her to be in this house with her kids again after all these years, and after the scandal she created in the county with her brother-in-law three decades earlier. Fortunately, HE would not be here this week. Small blessings.

“Where on earth is your father, Kevin?” Odie asked.

“I’ll be back,” I said.

I motioned for Curt to come with him upstairs. Curt seemed reluctant, but didn’t want to stay downstairs alone with the lunatics. He downed the remaining wine and smiled at Odie before following me upstairs.

Charles Woodward

(knock, knock)

“Dad?” I called through the door to his room. There was no answer.

I then slowly opened the door and saw my father standing there, completely naked by the front window with a fully erect penis. He had been known to do this when he was stressed. He was a Vietnam vet, and somehow he felt more free, completely naked, and his mind would flip around until he was oddly aroused …physically.

I twisted my mouth and squinted one eye, turning back to Curt who’s view was blocked.

“What?” asked Curt.

“Could I…” I paused momentarily to regain my composure. “Could I get you to wait in my room. Close the door, and I’ll be there in a minute. I have something to deal with that might take five minutes or so. I’m sorry.”

“No worries.”

I slowly entered the room and locked the door behind me.

“Dad?” I asked. “You alright?”

Charles looked back at me blankly, and then suddenly, he appeared to slowly come back into his body.

“Kevin,” Charles said. “Are you enjoying your Thanksgiving?”

“It’s Sunday, Dad. Thanksgiving is on Thursday, but your parents and some of your sisters are downstairs waiting for you.”

Other than my dad being completely erect and fully naked, he began to act normal again, almost oblivious that he wasn’t wearing clothes. These moments scared me, not because I fear the behavior, but because I feared becoming like them someday.

“Is that right?” Charles responded. “I guess that is right. Okay, let’s go downstairs, son.”

Dad awkwardly put his arms around me as if he were ready to go just as he was.

“Let’s get some clothes for you, Dad.”

This was super awkward, having my dad’s arm over me with no clothes on, plus the other …thing.

I picked a sweater that looked like it came off the movie set of “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?” He also had a nice pair of casual slacks, and his best shoes were penny loafers with a penny in each shoe. I specifically chose a pair of underwear that was tighter in case he didn’t lose his erection, which, again, happens when he was stressed sometimes.

“Are we good here? I’ll give you a minute, and I’ll come back. I’m just going to my room for a second.”

“Okay, son,” Charles said.

I stepped down three steps to the main staircase and then up three more to my room on the other side of the house, where Curt was waiting.

“Should I be here?” Asked Curt.

“I mean, I wouldn’t blame you if you flew out of here like an eagle, but I hope you’ll stay,” I said.

“Is everything okay in there?”

“Yeah, I'm too embarrassed to tell you how bad things get with him when he gets stressed.”

“You can tell me, Kev. When you told me how wild things were with your family, I thought maybe you were being dramatic. Now I’m glad you’re going to Michigan State and away from this.”

“Well, it’s only crazy like this when the family is around, and they all live between 800 and 2000 miles away, so you’re seeing it from the summit,” I explained.

“So what’s going on with your dad?”

“He just froze. He was fully naked and froze up like he didn’t know what to do next. I just picked out some clothes, and he’s putting them on now. I should get him and make sure he gets downstairs.

“Okay, cool,” Curt said. Now it’s time to meet the other three remaining contestants.

“Now you’re getting it.”