It is no secret that this season is my favorite, and I have very defined ideas of how
to make it successful. I start out with specific times that things can start, such as,
no holiday music prior to Thanksgiving day, and the tree goes up the morning of Black Friday, no sooner, no later. That night we take the students to see The Greeley Griswolds Christmas light display.
I have a list of movies we have to watch throughout the season, starting with "Black Adder's Christmas Carol", then "National Lampoons Christmas Vacation", followed by "The Christmas Story", "Santa Clause Is Comin' To Town", "Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer, and "It's A Wonderful Life."
The first Christmas songs I listen too are actually not Christmassy at all, "The Thanksgiving Song" by Adam Sandler, then his "Time For Hanukkah." After that we get rolling with "Run DMC's Christmas In Hollis." Once that is all done, my family is free to celebrate in the manner they see fit. It is not that I am a Yule-tide tyrant per se, it is just that they do not know what is best for them.
This year, we planned out our normal Thanksgiving menu, invited all our students, bought the food, had it all worked out. We always cook a turkey, roast a ham, have the normal veggies, some unusual but delicious side dishes, and top it off with one of my home made pumpkin cheesecakes. Seems pretty straight forward, and then I had to throw a wrench into the works.
I invited a Muslim refugee to celebrate with us. On the surface these seems pretty simple, but then I realized that I had to make sure we had foods the guy could eat. Scratch the ham. Hide the wine. Substitute with roast beef and sparkling cherry juice. Check. Read up on dietary law to be sure nothing we served had hidden non- Halal ingredients. Check. Back on track. One of my friends at church who knows my friend Mo, told me I should get some dates to serve to our guest as it was one of his favorites. They told me where to look, and make sure it was authentic an authentic Middle Eastern product, complete with Arabic writing on the package. No problem, I live near Greeley, which is like the freakin' cultural center of the universe, right?
It took some searching but I finally found a little African store stuck behind some of
the seediest real estate that can be seen for miles. The parking lot was actually a
field of potholes that were stitched together with barbwire, and watered down with
storm drainage to presumably help with the whole feng shui of the operation. I walk
into the front door of the tiny shop and get shocked stares from the three Somalian
store clerks. Apparently I was the first white guy who had ever crossed the threshold
and they assumed I was either too drunk to find my way into the bar entrance of the
bowling alley 100 feet away, or that I was there because I was up to no good.
Now, let me make it clear, I too am a little nervous as this is my first time entering
into an African store, if was an Asian store, I know how to act, but this was new
territory. I look at the guys, and blurt; "I am looking for dates! The first reaction was that they looked at each other in a rather frightened manner, and there was a short hushed exchange between them, then the guy closest to me stammered; "B-b-b-but we are men!?" I blurt "OK, whatever, but where can I find dates?" Stunned Silence. Store Clerk: "But Sir, there are no women here!" Me: " I don't care who brings it, I just want buy dates!" Horrified Silence. Store Clerk: We do not sell that here!
Me: "Look, I invited this guy Mohammed to my house for Thanksgiving, and my pastor said to offer him dates as a gift."
KAAABOOOOM!
You would have thought I just driven a train through a nitro-glycerine factory. The front man stammered "Whaaaat???? I repeated it, My friend Mo, from the refugee center, He is coming to visit me and He likes to eat dates. Suddenly we had a meeting of the minds. The store clerk led me over to a long shelf with a huge selection of dates. (It might be interesting to know, that if I had just looked three feet in front of me, I would have seen this shelf!)
I picked out a nice box, then the clerk timidly asked if there was anything else and
proceeded to show me around. I walked up to the counter with the dates, some rice, East African bottled juices, and a huge sense of relief. The guys behind the counter were then a little more at ease, and started questioning me about the reason I was there. I explained that I was making friends with Mo, and wanted to make him feel welcome in my home. "Your HOME?" they asked. They had to hear it a couple of times, because they could not believe their ears. The owner then shook my hand and asked me to come again. Mission accomplished.
Thanksgiving week turned out to be a success, nothing burned, no major wars in the kitchen with me and Dessy, everyone got fed, had some nice conversations and a few students came by the next day for leftovers and putting up the Christmas tree.
(Over the week we had students and guests visit from Mexico, Norway, China, France Djbouti, and Thailand.)
So on to the next phase of the Holidays, dealing with my kids and Christmas presents.
Till next time, I leave you with my Thanksgiving poem.
Ode To Thanksgiving
'Twas the morning of Thanksgiving,
And all through my house.
You can hear lots of screaming from me and my spouse.
From inside the kitchen with groceries to spare.
We argued and fought over how to prepare.
The guests will be coming,
Expecting our best.
The food won't be ready
And our house is a mess.
When on top of the stove, the yams made a splatter,
And my wife came a running, to see what was the matter.
The potatoes were flying, as I started to mash,
and fell on the floor, then tossed in the trash.
The bread won't be made, cause I messed up the dough
and the stuffing is runny, why I don't know.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature wife, and I shuddered in fear
With a gleam in her eyes, and armed with a stick,
I knew in a moment it's my butt she would kick.
She drew in a deep breath, I quivered in shame,
She shouted , and heckled, then bellowed my name!
Get out of my kitchen, you're just in the way.
I can't stand your face for even one more day.
Cut carrots,
Chop Celery,
Slice onion, and ham.
Make Gravy,
Do it your way,
I don't give a damn.
As the yelling subsided, I wished I could die,
My little boy shuddered and started to cry.
Then mommy took over, I ran in fear,
I hid in the basement and sipped on a beer.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard a crash on the floor,
Then wailing and crying and a slamming front door.
I went to the kitchen to find no one there,
The mess that had happened was too much to bear.
I laughed when I saw it, the food on the shelf!
We're out of time, I said to myself.
I thought for a moment, "This isn't so bad,
Let's go have dinner with my mom and my dad.
We drove to their house, and told them the deal,
and begged them to let us come in for a meal.
Mom spoke not a word, Dad had a big smirk,
And said to my face that I was a big jerk.
He then thumbed his nose and slammed the door shut,
I looked at Josh and Dessy and said "Now what?"
She suddenly smiled, and said "I know a way!"
And away we all went to the Country Buffet.
We all ate our fill, for $ seven ninety nine,
Then went back to the house for a cheap glass of wine.
As we fell asleep on the sofa, a voice yelled out in the night,
"Happy Thanksgiving to all to all, and to all a big fight!
