Kat's Rambling Mind

So, let me explain. When my baby sister Jennifer was little, she kind of had her own language. She named things in a way that was so assertive, you had to just look at the object and say, well….yeah, that’s what it is, all right. For example, chicken was “gooster”, olives were “gobbles”, and turkey? Well, for reasons that were entirely her own, turkey was “whonkey” (rhymes with donkey). And for the last 50-plus years, Thanksgiving Day has been known as Whonkey Day in our family.

As an adult, I understand how privileged our family has been when it comes to the holidays. Our gatherings have always been filled with love, laughter, minimal drama, and great food; Southern grandma food, and believe me, our grandmothers always went all out at the holidays. Thanksgiving meant the traditional turkey (whonkey) and dressing, gravy, cranberry sauce, potatoes both mashed and sweet, an array of vegetable sides and casseroles, and of course, desserts. Our parents carried this tradition along, and now my brother and sister host our holiday meals alternately between their homes. I live with our Mother, Miss Janice, and the two of us usually show up bearing a side dish or a dessert.

Of course, every family has their own favorites, the dishes that appear at every holiday meal. Ours include the usual deviled eggs and homemade pies, along with a few Southern oddities like pear salad, pineapple casserole, and curried fruit, all of which are delicious, by the way. And as of this morning, I learned that my New York born and raised boyfriend has never had butter peas or butterbeans over fresh cornbread. I made a mental note to rectify that as soon as possible. (This year, I’m especially thankful for him; don’t tell him, though. I can’t tell how skittish he is yet.)

Of course, my personal holiday dinner history isn’t without a little bit of drama. I survived the Great Turducken Incident of 2008 with an ex-boyfriend, so I don’t scare easily. His mother brought a turducken to be cooked for Thanksgiving, which was a relatively new culinary novelty at the time. Unfortunately, the oven that was available to cook that monstrosity was a little faulty, so it took forever for that Frankenbird to reach a safe temperature for consumption.

Meanwhile, I was trying to make side dishes in a kitchen with minimal utensils, my ex-boyfriend and his mother were at each other’s throats, and there was a free-flowing river of alcohol flowing that didn’t help anything. This was far from the holiday dinners I was used to, but I persevered. By the time we sat down to eat, exhaustion had set in and tension was thick. His mother promptly looked at the mashed potatoes I’d made, dropped her fork into them, and said, “These are soup”.

Folks, it took all my Southern lady upbringing and a good dose of the Lord himself to stop me from losing my then-considerable temper, but I managed not to explode. l got up from the table, walked over and got a spoon, and handed it to her with a sickly sweet smile. Things went a little sideways after that, and needless to say, that relationship died a booze-soaked death not long afterwards. However, in later years as I was starting a journey to sobriety, I’d often revisit that dinner as a reminder that alcohol wasn’t my friend. Almost ten years of sobriety later, and I’m not only grateful for that on Thanksgiving, but every single day.

Which brings me to the real reason for the day, which is gratitude. I’m grateful for so many things; my family, my new relationship, my home and the fact that I’m safe and loved, my job and work family, my online family…the list goes on and on. But speaking as someone who has battled some demons in the past, I’m increasingly grateful that my own stupidity didn’t kill me, that I got the help and support I needed, and that I’m now on a peaceful path centered in love. It’s an amazing place to be, and one that I’m still not sure I deserve sometimes.

And so, on this Thanksgiving, I wish nothing but the best for you and yours. Go ahead, have one more piece of pie and watch some football. You deserve all the good things. Happy Whonkey Day!