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Previous Neighborhood Stories
Jack’s Pet
Larsson Helps Out
The Golden Goose
The Diet Contest
A Halloween Story
The Great Bird Feeder War
As soon as everybody was in the car Roy's dad started to whistle.
Here we go again, Roy thought. Roy was ten. He thought he could remember being four. He knew he could remember being five. Five, six, seven, he thought. Yeah, he's done it at least six times now. He'll probably do it forever.
What Dad whistled was "Over the River and Through the Woods," only he didn't seem to know the whole tune. He just whistled "Over the River and Through the Woods" over and over. He was doing it because today was Thanksgiving.
“We're not going through the woods,” Roy said. “Just past them. Anyway, it's only a park.”
“We're going over a river,” Dad said.
“And we're going to your grandmother's,” said Mom.
“Huh?” said Dad.
Great, Roy thought, he doesn't know the rest of the words, either. Roy sighed and looked over at Annie. Annie was strapped into her baby seat, just cooing and looking goggly. Enjoy yourself while you can, kid, thought Roy. By next year you'll have enough teeth to eat the food.
Grandma and Grandpa were both waiting at the door of the house when Roy's family got there.
“We're not late, are we?” said Mom.
“Everybody else has been here for ages,” said Grandma.
“Now, now,” said Grandpa,” let's not be putting our heads into our hats inside out. Better late than never.”
“Put your coats in the back bedroom,” said Grandma. She headed into the kitchen.
In the bedroom Mom said,”I was sure we were on time, Charlie.”
“We are,” said Dad. “But I bet Cal's way ahead of me on drinks anyway.”
“He won’t be too far ahead,” said Mom. “Remember, my father makes his special punch for Thanksgiving.”
Dad gulped. “Yeah”, he said. “I remember.” Mom had picked up Annie again and they were heading into the living room when Grandma called out, “Who wants to see the turkey?”
“We’d better look at it,” said Mom.
They went into the kitchen. Sitting at the kitchen table were Uncle Marv and Aunt Liddy. Uncle Marv was slumped down in his chair with his chin on his tie. Aunt Liddy was taping a square of gauze to the side of his right hand. There was a big bottle of antiseptic on the table.
“Hi, Sis,” said Aunt Liddy.
“Hi, Liddy,” said Mom. She looked at Uncle Marv. “Same thing again, huh?” she said. “Where's Missy?”
“She's in the bathroom,” said Aunt Liddy.
“Wow,” said Roy. “Last year she was only sick after the dinner.”
“She couldn't stand to see her father like this,” said Uncle Marv. “Fifteen-year-olds are sensitive.”
“She's probably fixing her hair again,” said Aunt Liddy. “It has to be teased back exactly right or the purple stripes aren’t even.” She had finished with the tape and Uncle Marv was flexing his hand and groaning.
“It gets worse very year,” he said.
“It's only a scratch,” said Grandma. She was standing by the oven door tapping her foot. “Pookie isn't big enough to do any real damage.”
“It wasn't just the bite,” said Uncle Marv. “It was the look in his eye when he did it. I've never seen such pure, cold hate.” A tear ran down the side of his face. Aunt Liddy patted his arm.
“Come and look at the turkey,” Grandma said. She opened the oven door and everybody looked, even Annie. The turkey was the same color as Grandma's old mahogany sideboard and its skin was
splitting in four places.
“Should be nice and done real soon,” said Grandma. “I put it in the oven at nine o'clock this morning, just like I always do.”
“Looks like you're up to your usual standards, Lou,” said Dad. He was grinning, but only below his nose. On the way to the living room, Roy thought he heard Mom murmur something about seven hours without a lid on the roaster.
“It does go down, remember?” Dad said to Mom. “In small bites with plenty of gravy.” Mom just stared at him. Roy understood the look. Small bites with gravy meant you had to eat the gravy.
Uncle Cal stood up as they came into the living room. “Hello, all,” he said. He started handing out glasses of something purple with flecks of brown in it.
“Oregano,” he said. “This year’s innovation, huh, Pop?”
“I think you’ll agree I’ve outdone myself,” said Grandpa. “It’s even better than it was with the coriander last year.”
Dad took one of the glasses. He held it up and looked at it as if he thought it might do something mean all by itself. “So, your mother's still got that purse dog?” he said.
“Yeah,” said Uncle Cal. “He’s half blind now, but he found my new boots OK.”
“Count yourself lucky,” said Uncle Marv. “Isn't there anything stronger than this punch?”
“There's the grape juice Ma was saving for the kids,” said Uncle Cal. “It fermented.”
Grandpa laughed. “Way ahead of you,” he said. “It's in the punch. So let’s not be getting the drinks in over our heads.”
Aunt Liddy had her back to the room and was fussing with a big schefflera on a plant stand. When she turned back her glass was empty. That is one dead plant, thought Roy. Just then Missy wandered into the room.
“Wow,” thought Roy, “now it’s five rings in each ear.”
“Hello, Missy,” said Uncle Cal. Missy stuck out her lower lip and didn’t answer.
“She’s called Deirdre these days,” said Aunt Liddy.
“Oh,” said Uncle Cal, “Hello, Deirdre.”
Deirdre said, “Grandma’s putting the food on the table.” She turned around and slouched toward the dining room.
“You go ahead,” Mom said to Dad. “I’m going to get Annie settled in.’’
“Lucky you,” said Dad. “You can put it off just that long.”
Grandma had set the turkey on her big Thanksgiving platter in front of Grandpa’s place. Grandpa picked up the carving knife.
“Not so fast,” said Grandma. “There’s grace, you know. Cal, it’s your turn to say grace.”
Cal had managed to choke down some of the punch. He squeezed his eyes closed and said, “From these gifts we are about to receive, Good Lord, preserve us.” He said it fast.
Grandma stared for a moment. Then she said, “Thank you so very much, Cal.” Roy was sure he saw Deirdre start to smile, but she caught his eye and frowned again.
Grandpa put down the carving knife. “I think I need the electric knife,” he said. Grandma sighed and pulled the electric knife out of the sideboard. “You could sharpen the carving knife once in a while,” she said. “You know how the chips fly around when you use this one.”
Grandpa put a chunk of turkey on each plate, and Grandma passed the stuffing. Dad said, “What are the white, oval things in the stuffing?”
Grandma beamed. “Something special this year,” she said. “Those are acorns. They’re just like the Indians used, so the stuffing is really traditional.”
“They’re in there whole!” said Uncle Cal. “Good grief! Don’t anybody eat the stuffing.”
“They are perfectly good food,” said Grandma. “The Indians ate them for thousands of years.”
“Mom,” said Uncle Cal, “the Indians pounded them in water to get the bitter stuff out.”
“Cal,” said Grandma, “at your age it’s time you got a job and stopped telling stories.”
“It’s true,” said Roy. “You can’t eat them unless you cook them the Indian way. My teacher said so.” Everybody put down their forks. Aunt Liddy was fanning herself with a napkin.
“Oh my God,” said Grandma.
“Sure,” said Uncle Cal. “You won’t listen to me, but you’ll believe a nine-year-old.”
“Ten-year-old,” said Roy.
“Now, let’s not be putting our socks on over our shoes,” said Grandpa. “Even if we can’t eat the stuffing…”
“Or the turkey,” said Uncle Cal. “Remember the stuffing was inside it.”
“Or the gravy,” said Grandpa cheerfully. “There’s still plenty of other food.”
“That’s right,” said Grandma. “Potatoes, and cranberries, and…”
“Anything special in the corn pudding?” said Uncle Cal.
“There certainly is not!” said Grandma. “And we have lots of yams and vegetables.”
“Ew,” said Deirdre.
“To say nothing of pumpkin pie,” said Grandpa.
“Yes!” said Grandma.
Everybody ate very quietly. Once Roy saw Aunt Liddy glance at the turkey with tears in her eyes but Grandma gave her a look and she got busy with the yams and broccoli on her plate.
As soon as Roy had mashed up his pie to make it look as if he’d eaten part of it, he excused himself and went back to the living room. The only one there was Annie, who was on the davenport, walled in with cushions and throw pillows and clutching her bottle. The bottle was empty so Roy put it on an end table. Then he sat Annie up.
“We can still be thankful, kid,” he said. “Know why?”
“Plxmfrb?” Said Annie.
“Because,” Roy said, “this year there won’t be any leftovers.”