Wednesday, November 21, 2007

How Dare I

Two Thanksgivings ago, we went to my Aunt Beverly's. Aunt Bev is my father's sister. They are equal months apart as my girls, sixteen. Which means, for the most part, one year. I fretted during my second pregnancy, because there has always been friction between Aunt Bev and Uncle Bob and I didn't want the same lifelong competition started amongst my soon to be siblings. Luckily mine were same-sexed and hopefully we are on track to avoiding whatever it is that caused their rivalry.

So two years ago, at Aunt Bevs, there was turkey and as they say, all the fixin's. I was tasked with bringing wine. And my father, Uncle Bob, was to bring the Texas favorite - Bluebell Homemade Vanilla ice cream. I remember that my cousin Liz's in-laws were present decked out in burnt orange and there was the requisite friends and even some children running around. What fun! (Beau that was for you. )

When I was a child, all of my aunts and uncles were like super heros to me, and Aunt Beverly was no exception. She was a talented seamstress, great cook and all around domestic diva. She had strong opinions, which she shared with much aplomb. Our relationship became shaky when once I reached out to her on a visit home from NYC and suggested we get our nails done. Through a simple miscommunication I arrived at the wrong address and since the manicure was to take place on her lunch hour, ended up missing the appointment. Even though I profusely apologized, Aunt Bev never accepted that it was miscommunication. Instead, it was a grave inconvenience caused by me and put upon her. Why she didn't call my cellphone is one of our great family mysteries. Why she didn't give me the name of the salon so I could call information is equally as perplexing. But that's topcoat under the bridge.

The Thanksgiving on 2005 was the year to get everything back on track. The food was amazing. I was surrounded by three generations of family. I had a wonderful time. It wasn't until weeks later that I heard. My cousin told my father who told me that Aunt Bev was unforgivably offended! I attempted to remember what I had said or done. Perhaps it was the children?

And then the sin was revealed. Erik was the offender! He had gone into a back bedroom and - it is hard for me to even type this today - turned on the TV and watched FOOTBALL!!! Oh the horrors!

We won't be going to Aunt Bev's this year. In fact, I don't think I have heard from her since. I hope she and her family have a glorious football free turkey day.

1 comment:

Which Box said...

When I was a kid, all my aunts and uncles were like super heroes to me, too. They still are, in many ways. I miss being close to my extended family.

I did drive nearly a quarter of the way across part of the country. I live in middle America, my parents in the south. I'm not ready to share specifics online. Just not ready yet.

Happy thanksgiving. I am thankful you've visited my blog and commented. It helps get me out of my own head.