Reminiscing on Thanksgiving past, being thankful for family

MORGANTON --

Last Thanksgiving, I hosted the Thanksgiving feast for a portion of my family at my Morganton home. My brother, sister-in-law, niece and nephew were coming from Roanoke, Va.; and I invited my parents.
My brother offered to bring a smoked turkey for the meal and, of course, I agreed. I knew he would enjoy firing up his smoker. Besides it had traditionally for many years been our stepfather's job. It felt right to pass the honor to him. Sadly his predecessor died more than two Thanksgivings ago.
While the folks from Roanoke traveled here Thanksgiving morning, I left to pick up my mother from her assisted living home. My mother lived with me after her husband's death for almost three years. But her illness progressed such that we couldn't handle it anymore at home.
November is Alzheimer's awareness month. I know we are not the only family struggling with this debilitating illness that takes the mind and leaves the body behind. I didn't want to leave her out that year.
My father lives near her assisted living home and has been visiting her on a regular basis. I think it is good for both of them. He jokes that it's a good thing she doesn't remember him as her first husband, with whom she was married 23 years, and who is father of her three children.
"She might run the other way when she sees me coming," he says, laughing.
She knows him as a friendly person who visits sometimes — the way she knows me now, as well.
I returned with Mother, as Daddy was turning into my drive. We three sat together and tried to make small talk while we waited for our guests. I had fixed my dishes: green bean casserole, sweet potato souffle with the little marshmallows on top, cornbread dressing, a dozen deviled eggs — the usual — the night before. I wanted to be available to my mother in case she became upset or disoriented.
I wasn't surprised when the phone ran twice from two stressed-out driver's reporting various delays. They were traveling in separate cars because of having recently separated. I decided to remove my meal offerings accordingly. They were thickening and growing cold in their serving dishes on the already-set dinning room table.
Finally my brother pulled up and came in dragging a bird that looked pale and uncooked in its plastic bag. When questioned, he admitted that it was still frozen in the middle and needed more cooking. He moved toward my oven. About that time, my sister-in-law drove up with their 6-year-old daughter and 7-year-old son. Both children immediately began howling in unison that they were hungry.
So I was trying to get my dishes warmed up and back on the table while my brother hung over his turkey in the kitchen. His estranged wife began to ask, demand and finally plead for my brother to come to the table for the prayer, so the kids could get started with the meal. He ignored her, determined that the meal would not proceed without his main dish.
My mother, who'd been pacing inside, suddenly decided to go down the road. My father looked totally undone as to what he can do about the chaos around him. I vacillated between chasing my mother, getting the food out, hushing my niece and nephew and cajoling my brother to come to the table, for heaven's sake.
Then, the turkey began to stink. At first we all held back judgment, hoping somehow that the smell came from some interesting combination of spices my brother had tried. But the kids began to loudly express themselves. "OOOOOOOOOOOOOh, that turkey smells awful. Gross. Ugh. What's wrong with it? Yuk."
My brother tried to continue ignoring everyone while pulling open the oven door to stick the poor turkey again with a long fork. Finally, he looked up and asked his wife about the condition of the bags of fruit left in the basement freezer. He sheepishly explained that he had stuffed the turkey with it for added flavor.
She nonchalantly answered that the fruit was left over from their summer crayfish party and had gone bad. Wincing, I announced that I'd baked a big ham, all decorated pretty with pineapple slices. I failed to get anyone's attention. Everyone was focused on the incriminating turkey.
So I intervened by suggesting I give the prayer, hoping I could think of something appropriate to say. At this point, the kids were obviously exaggerating their cries of hunger. No one could be very hungry in that turkey stench. I took hold of my mother's elbow having guided her inside.
We took each other's hands and circled around the table. The prayer actually came easy. I felt happy to be gathered there with my family even in all this craziness. After all, that's what Thanksgiving's all about — experiencing the uniqueness of our families, knowing whatever it is, we're in it together.