The Goblet Incident of '76

I will come clean, I'm guessing at the year.  I would think that my brother and I couldn't have been more than five or six when it happened.  I'm still wondering how I didn't get the blame, because heavens it certainly couldn't have been HIS fault.

I'm fairly certain the holiday we were celebrating was Thanksgiving.  We didn't usually go to Aunt Mary and Uncle Clate's for Christmas.  We did for Easter a lot, but it was dark at five o'clock dinner time, so that leads me to believe it was Thanksgiving.  Aunt Mary had set a beautiful table, the lights were out and we were dining by candlelight. (this must be where I get it from) They had a small kitchen, no dining room, and we were crammed in there like sardines.  I was sitting across the table from my brother Jerry, who else was there, or where they were sitting is all a blank to me, but my brothers face is as clear to me as if it happened yesterday.

Now I must tell you that in my Aunt Mary's eyes my brother Jerry could do, and never did (except perhaps this day) anything wrong.  A very clear favorite, that's for sure.  My best example would be the Christmas my sister and I got purses from Mexico, and my brother got a car.  A red jaguar.  Not a matchboxer, a car big enough for him to sit in and peddle around.  Bastard.

So there he sat across the table from me, angelic little cherub that he was. (not) Grinning at me like a crazy person.  I looked back at him, confused, wondering what was up, and then noticed he had a death grip on the water glass stem.  (Who gives little children glassware?) His eyes bored into mine with that evil little glimmer he has, my eyebrows shot up, and POP the entire top of the glass popped right off the stem!  The glass smashed onto the table, water everywhere.  Much Auntie concern about the little lovie being cut, and comments on the weakness of the glass.... my eyes rolling so far back I'm surprised they didn't stick. 

Then, she gives him a new goblet. (duh)  The table settles in to the murmur of visiting family and feasting.  Jerry looks at me, and then my glass.  I shoot him back an "are you nuts?" look.  No way am I going to follow that one up.  I did not just fall off the turnip truck.  I would have gotten in trouble, and probably blamed for my brother doing it the first time.  So he continues eating for maybe five minutes, then I notice him grinning at me again, his little fist strangling the stem of the water glass.  My eyes go wide in alarm, but I didn't really think he could make it pop off like that again.  Do I tattle?  Nah, I decide to see where this one is going to go, and try to keep myself clean out of it.  Suddenly POP!  Off comes another one.  It shoots into the air still intact, and then smashes on the table.  This time mostly empty.  My Aunt is shocked.  My mother is not.  I don't remember what happened afterwards, but I do remember hearing "GERALD EDWARD" coming out of my Mom, and snickering to myself.

It's funny, I can still see that evil little grin he had on his face as if it were yesterday.  My Aunt probably went to her grave believing she had faulty stemware.  :)  Kids, don't try this at home.  Ugh, I'm so tempted it's killing me.  Happy Thanksgiving!  Keep the stemware away from the kids.

Ghosts of Thanksgivings Past

When I write what I am thankful for tomorrow on facebook, it will read something like "I am thankful for all of the wonderful Thanksgiving memories that I have made over the years."  I have the gift/curse of a good memory, although half the time I can't remember what the heck I'm doing, or looking for, my recall of past events is amazing. 

I'm sitting here trying to think of just which memory to share, there are so many!  I think this year I will go with my earlier ones.  Of course I remember making hand turkey's in art class, and thanksgiving place mats at school.  I always think of my Mom making her dressing (ugh, giblets) after supper dishes were done on the night before the holiday.  The smell of the celery, onion, and sage filling the house.  She called it dressing, not stuffing, and it had apples in it.  I liked it, just not the little extra parts (giblets).  I always picked them out. 

Aunt Dorothy and Uncle Joe would sometimes come from Madison to share the holiday with us.  My very first real Thanksgiving memory is of a blizzard holding them up, and sitting outside my house in full snow gear, in a huge snowbank, waiting for them.  I couldn't have been more than six.  Another memory, probably the following year has me sitting in a car with Aunt Dorothy outside of Presidents liquor store, it was sleeting that time.  Uncle Joe was inside getting supplies for the holiday.  Then we flash forward a few years and my brother and I were playing in the woods, skating on some frozen pond water, killing time while waiting for them to arrive.  No snow that year, but cold.  I might have been ten.

Sometimes the holiday was at our house, sometimes at my Aunt Mary's.  We didn't do Thanksgiving with the Meys side, and my Grandma Meys must have gone over to Aunt Pat and Uncle Bill's house during those early years.  She and sister Eva Jean were definitely there with us in my later teens though.  I believe the water goblet incident, as it has come to be called, happened on Thanksgiving.  What?  I haven't told you the water goblet incident?  Ha, that will be my turkey day blog tomorrow.

When I was twelve, I had my first "boyfriend" ask me to "go" with him right around Thanksgiving.  He called me on Thanksgiving night, and I still remember part of the call.  (awwww) That would be Rick, for those of you keeping count. :)

Somewhere around this time things changed.  Aunt Dorothy and Uncle Joe moved to Utah, and Aunt Mary and Uncle Clate started wintering in Texas.  Now it was just our immediate family for Thanksgiving.  My Mom was the church secretary at St. Anthony's, and she would invite the housekeeper, Dorothy Baker, and the priest, Father Pius to join us.  I remember lots of laughter, and checker games.  Then the later teens where my Grandma Meys, and Aunt, Sister Eva Jean would join us too.

Funny thing is, though Wally and I were together for most of those years, I have no Thanksgiving memories of him.  He was always out at his Grandma's farm hunting.  Lots of memories of my siblings and Vicki and I playing outside during the holiday break from school though!  I'm trying to think if I even saw Wally when I came home........OH, the Wiley story.  I didn't see him when I came home in '87 for Thanksgiving. He was in basic training.  He called though, and the operator had a southern accent.  I was laying in bed sleeping in and I hear my sister say  "No, I wont accept the charges, I don't know any Wiley."  I came flying out of bed yelling " It's Wally you dummy!"  On the other end he's yelling "Katy it's me!"  Sheesh..  :)

So I sit here laughing, although almost everyone in this blog is gone now.  They are good memories, with good people, and good times.  May we all make many more happy Thanksgiving memories this year.