Thanksgiving Prayer
They had just crossed the state line from Kentucky into Tennessee. Another 90 minutes or so and they would be in Bartlett, where his brother lived with his wife, Melanie, and two daughters.
“Ethan if your brother Jeremy or Melanie bring up politics and that awful Trump character, I swear we are leaving. And, if we don’t leave, I’m going to let them have it this time.” She bit her lip and placed her chubby hand on his shoulder to emphasize her point. “I will not have another Thanksgiving ruined by their contempt for the Constitution and President Biden.”
He checked his speedometer and noticed he had accelerated to 85 miles per hour since Clarissa had started talking. He pulled his foot off the accelerator. No sense getting a speeding ticket. Every year Clarissa threatened to blow a fuse over something that ultimately was inconsequential. Her friendship with Melanie and fondness for Jeremy were longstanding. Aside from political differences, Clarissa and Melanie had always been close.
“I think I should tell you,” He said, “That my brother has been doing some consulting work for Rudy Giuliani and he invited him to Thanksgiving dinner. America’s Mayor accepted. I’ll try to make sure you aren’t seated next to him.”
Clarissa looked at her husband. He had just turned 50 and wore a jaunty racing cap to punctuate the arrival of his second midlife crisis. “Ethan, you will back me up, won’t you?” She couldn’t help smiling. He was, after all a good man.
“Thanksgiving is a family tradition. You know how I feel about this. Political preferences, or beliefs are deeply held these days. But a few comments about our nation’s politics should not interfere with, or affect the purpose of our long ride from Cincinnati to Bartlett. He exhaled loudly. “So, Clarissa, be gentle. It’s not like Jeremy and Melanie actually have any influence on what may, or may not, happen in Washington.”
“I know that, but both of them have a way of needling me over issues that matter to me a great deal.”
He shook his head and concentrated on driving. They passed the exit for Hendersonville. They would be in Bartlett soon.
In the kitchen in Bartlett, Melanie carefully pulled out the rack and basted the 22-pound turkey again. Jeremy was standing nearby, putting slits in the chestnuts he planned to bake after dinner. “Baby, I hope Clarissa doesn’t go off on one of her rants about Trump, or how wonderful that old man, Biden, is. She will ruin our dinner.”
“I spoke to Ethan about that,” Jeremy said. “Apparently, Clarissa is under the impression that we are the ones who start up with the political talk.”
“What? You’ve got to be kidding me! I have suffered her liberal bias in silence for as long as I’m going to. This year, if she starts in on that nonsense, I’m going to tell her just what I think.” She moved the turkey back into the oven and checked her watch. They’ll be here soon. I should put the sweet potato casserole in.”
Jeremy took a sip of his white wine. “Dear I’m thinking that we should just listen and not respond. I mean, say nothing. If we do that, then one of us can quickly change the subject.”
“Do you think that will work?”
“It’s worth a try.”
Ethan and Clarissa arrived at 1:30. They all exchanged hugs and were genuinely happy to see each other. Busy schedules always made it hard for them to get together. Over the last several years, Thanksgiving in Bartlett and Christmas in Cincinnati seemed to be the best they could do.
“Your home always looks so inviting,” Clarissa said to Melanie. “And you really outdid yourself this year with that lovely Christmas tree.”
“Why thank you!” In spite of her misgivings about their political differences, Melanie was happy to see Clarissa. They had bonded nearly thirty years ago when they agreed to be married on the same day, joining forces to grant Ethan and Jeremy’s mother her wish. The brothers were identical twins. Their mother, who was struggling with a chronic illness, was delighted that her boys would be married on the same day in an elaborate ceremony.
After a bit of small talk, the brothers sat down to watch the Bengals play the Titans in a first ever Thanksgiving match between the two teams. They ribbed each other about their teams’ prospects. The women went to the kitchen and poured glasses of wine. Melanie stirred vegetables and casually pointed to her turkey dressing. She sighed. “It’s always dry. Nothing I try works.”
“May I make a suggestion?” Clarissa asked.
“Please do.”
“Pour some of the drippings from the turkey over it. It will make it moist and add flavor.”
As they sat down to dinner in the dining room, with Jeremy’s and Melanie’s daughters, joining the two couples, Jeremy, as the host, offered a prayer of Thanksgiving. He said, “On Thanksgiving we celebrate family, love, forgiveness, peace and hope.”
Melanie carved the turkey and was putting a generous portion on each plate. Creamed corn, sweet potato casserole, green beans almondine, mashed turnups and her southern dressing were passed around. Ethan winked at his brother and said, “Shouldn’t we wait for Rudy to get here?” Without missing a beat, Jeremy said, “Joe’s son Hunter called. He said they’ll be here in time for dessert.”
Clarissa and Melanie both laughed. And the turkey dressing was a hit.