Rescue the Table Fancy Like

This Thanksgiving, stop. Halt the cooking, put your flour-dusted, pumpkin-splattered ear up to the knobby pink mountain of meat and listen.

When your uncle walks in wearing a Let’s Go Brandon shirt and you’re tempted to rip it from his body, bend him over the table, and flay him right there, pause.

When they’re late. Again. And the glory has congealed on the stove, and you’ve taken so many “test” bites you could be the one in the oven, and you wonder how come, if you can cook an entire dinner and be on time, why can’t they shower and show up on time? When you’re tempted to walk out on the whole thing, mark the headless guest of honor.

As you scoop your third helping of baked marshmallows with a dab of sweet potatoes, and your nether regions fuse to the chair just as the conversation has taken an appalling turn into gun rights or vaccine mandates or imminent civil war, listen to what the turkey has to say:

No matter how pretty and right you think you are, time and circumstance will eventually catch up with you, and you will be shoved someplace where it’s very, very hot.*

But my oh my, don’t we just know how pretty and right we are in these days of AI algorithms that tell us so? No matter how pretty, how polished, how published (for my writer-friends), how smart or powerful, how fat (we or) our wallets are—time and circumstance…

Maybe the Thanksgiving table would be less polarized if I took the lesson from the turkey. Kept my mouth shut. The one place I think self-censorship might be a good idea. And hey, the good news is, we don’t have to be shoved someplace very, very hot, even upon being overtaken by time and circumstance. Every Thanksgiving I’m drawn again into the glow of gratitude that God sent His only Son. Can I stay there, even when I burned the cranberry sauce? Can I, when the talk turns to a subject I’m wildly passionate about, and I want to download my ideology on my family and friends with all the subtlety of a piano on their heads? When I am tempted to go to politics, can I focus instead on loving my family and understanding them? If love’s not your thing, then try this: When the tension gets high, break out the “Fancy Like Twurkey dance.” Make everyone watch. Crisis averted.

Happy Thanksgiving.

*Brian Lageose first penned this quote, and I’ve taken it entirely out of context. But you might be interested to know, he is satirizing Trump lovers in 2017.

7 thoughts on “Rescue the Table Fancy Like

  1. Thank you so much for the mention. Honestly, I zipped right past the quote with only a faint bell ringing (“have I read that somewhere before?”). It wasn’t until the end that I thought “ohhhh…. got it.”

    It’s been a while since we’ve chatted, so this reconnect was a lovely surprise. Hope you’re doing well!

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