Thanksgiving is a holiday I associate with disaster; my memory bank is loaded with images of Thanksgiving mishaps. I’m not quite sure why these bad things always happened, but maybe it was because people got so carried away with emotions triggered by the presence of all that family that they lost their balance or forgot how to carry platters of food.
One year my grandfather, seated at my parents’ long dining table, temporarily forgot that he was sitting on a backless bench. He was reminded of this fact when, leaning back to sip a last drop of wine, he crashed to the floor. (Luckily grandfathers seldom sue for injuries sustained due to bad furniture.)
Sometimes, when we had a large number of guests, Mom hired some help for the occasion. One year, the help arrived having had a few too many crantinis. While the woman did fine when she climbed the kitchen stairs to change, she descended those stairs in a tumble, as my father would say, “ass over teakettle.” Luckily, she was unhurt, and even unfazed by the fact that her wig had arrived at the bottom of the stairs before she did.
Another year, a nephew tripped while presenting the turkey, sending it skidding across the dining room into the jaws of an ecstatic dog. There was also the Thanksgiving in Baltimore, when Tom’s sister Julie dropped a massive platter of sauerkrut, although this may have been been engineered by certain members of my family who were thus relieved of the responsibility of eating the stuff.
Do you have any Thanksgiving disaster stories (or is it just me?) Leave a comment!