it is early thanksgiving morning, and although i am hosting thanksgiving dinner at my house, my father has insisted that he be the one to prepare the bird. we aren't eating until 2, so dad is over at 9 am to get things going. i greet him at the door in my pajama's, looking like i have been on a bender. "you wanted to do this, remember?" is his way of saying hello. i quickly turn him over to my husband in the kitchen. dan will be responsible for informing dad where he can find a decent knife because he forgot to bring his own. he does bring his own carrots, onion and celery because i can't be trusted to have these things available. dan will also be there to open various cabinets and drawers, since i haven't choosen my kitchen knobs yet. "well, i would like to throw out this turkey bag without spilling the blood all over the floor, but i can't find the garbage" is dad's way of asking dan where we keep our garbage can. turkey blood is all over my floor anyway, but dan is there with the bleach to clean up behind my dad. i am hiding in the basement with the children pretending to be cleaning. when i do climb up from my safe spot i meet my father in the kitchen about to pour coffee into a measuring cup because he can't find any coffee mugs, if we even have such a thing. i quickly produce a cup for him without saying a word. i keep telling myself, let it go. this is my first holiday without zoloft in 3 years. let it go.
my dad is an extremely intelligent man. dan says, "wicked smart." that's no lie. dad tells me about a movie he and my mom saw recently. i understood this movie to be one of those, "man redeems himself before death" stories. not so. according to dad, this was an attack on modern society and that all the world's problems can be solved with a solid dose of capitalism. corruption rules! my dad said that this movie should be on rush limbau's must see list. his commentary on this movie runs for about 10 minutes. i have nothing to add to the discussion. not only have i not seen the movie, but i don't understand what my dad is even talking about. i continue to nod and drink my tea, my head swimming with possible comments. anything that won't make me sound like a complete fool. after all these years, i am still incredibly intimidated by my father. i so desperately want him to think i am smart. in the past, when my dad and i have attempted conversations like this, i end up making some stupid insepid little comment to which my father responds with a shaking of his head and a deep resigned sigh as if saying, "how is this my child?" i pray that he won't ask me any questions and my wish is granted. he is deep in thought, probably about the inadaquacy of my oven size or lack of proper tin foil.
"no parade today?" this innocent question holds so many hidden meanings you would need a complete labotomy if i attempted to give you the entire family history. no, we did not take the kids to the parade. i am too lazy. and yes, EVERY SINGLE YEAR my father took me to the parade. he was more reliable than a mailman. thru rain, snow, or sleet -- dad took me to the parade. i knew what was coming. the story about the year that he nearly caught pnemonia taking me to the parade in the freezing rain. the temperature was about 4, the roads were covered with ice from the freezing rain that continued to pour down during the entire parade. dad wore his down coat which became the cloak of death. luckily, he had found a spot for us right in front of a bar. halfway during the parade he tapped my leg and said, "stay here. i will be right back." where was i going to go? dad had put me on top of his homemade scaffolding. he went into the bar and asked the bartender for a cup of coffee. the bartender took pity on my father and also provided a shot of bourbon free of charge. on the ride home i asked my dad if he thought the parade was as good as i did. "sure" was his reply. it wasn't until i was an adult that i understood that adults, parents in particular, don't always have a good time at things like parks, parades or the circus. there is so much that children don't understand about being the grown up: the person who drives, has to find the parking spot, carries the ladders and the large sheet of plywood, finds a decent spot, creates the viewing area, puts the child on the scaffolding, and then proceeds to wait thru the parade in the cold and freezing rain. not once did he try and convince me to go home early, or even discourage me from going at all. not once did he complain about being cold or bored. the resentment was there, but it was quiet and restrained. it was the kind of tension that kept me from bothering him. it was understood that i was to simply enjoy myself, by myself.
my old man. now i am an adult, married with a family of my own. yet, i am still that little 7 year old girl. i understand my job is to be quiet around him. to find a decent bowl to hold the potatos, supply coffee, have extra cans of chicken broth available -- this is my role this thanksgiving. all of a sudden my dad turns to me and says, "you know that bar we were in from of that one parade...the one where i nearly died?" he proceeds to share a story with me about he and his friend sitting in that bar looking out on jefferson avenue. all of a sudden a man passed the front window. my father turned to his friend and said, "did you see who that was?" his friend nodded and answered, "that was dick williams." dick had been my father's best friend and had died suddenly 5 years earlier. it was an extremely difficult death for my dad, one from which he has never recovered. dick is remembered fondly by my dad, but ony rarely and not for very long. it remains too painful for him. my dad says to me, "can you believe it. dick williams right there on jefferson avenue. dead for 5 years. didn't even stop in for a drink." he turns away from me, but i can see the tears.
all i can do is smile. to reach out and touch him would make him feel awkward and uncomfortable. that is something that we don't do in our family. sudden bursts of emotion are not met with comfort and hugs. instead we prefer conversations involving food or driving directions. "dad, do you think i have enough chicken broth?" this was his reponse:
"jesus, why do you buy these big cans. just buy the little cans. if you buy these big cans, then you have to use the whole can at once. don't tell me you can save it. it loses all the flavor if left in the fridge. where is your funnel? what do you mean you don't have a funnel. well, i will make do, but if this dinner doesn't turn out right i will just have to tell everyone that you didn't have the funnel."
ok dad. by the way, the dinner was delicious. and i made sure he took all the credit.
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