A deep and heavy, turkey scented sigh. The nightmares of thanksgivings past fill this essay, and exhume my worst memories from young bride days.
I wonder how I ever began to love thanksgiving? Oh yes, I remember.. it began with the year I caught the oven on fire! (Yes. I did this) I’d spent three days prior making an elaborate Carmel cake with chocolate and bourbon, and hid it in the oven overnight. I was very much a young bride with a 2 year old strawberry blonde sweet girl. I turned on the oven that late morning, to preheat for the turkey, guests were arriving, the doorbell rang, and the entire oven burst into flames. (I’d forgotten to remove the cake which was now burnt crisp). The molten caramel and chocolate remained on the oven coils, and I swear the turkey tasted like it was infused with a mole sauce.
I began to cry, but burst into a wild laughter, which I’ve done ever since on that wonderful holiday. Every year this makes me laugh. After that, no dinner party was as disastrous.
Incredible essay. Enhanced, like the rest of your work you’ve read to us, by the manner and rhythm in which you tell the story. I am just as impressed with your performance of your works as the writing itself. It’s more powerful because of your delivery.
They always told me to bring napkins, chips, or pop. One year I made a cheesecake from scratch. It was perfect. No one believed I made it. Now I need to write a cooking essay.
Marya, enjoying a meal at a diner off I-40 sounds like the perfect antidote to what the holiday holds for many. Drop the pretense, lose the expectations, and just be a human who cares about other humans.
I listened to this one, smiled at the cat in the background (reminded me of our talkative one, now gone), loved the poetry of your presentation while simultaneously feeling my chest tighten from similar memories. My MIL once told me I couldn't help load the dishwasher because she did it better. 🙄 The way you interwove preparation and retrospection - just brilliant!
Anyway, I lean toward dry brining these days, better yet, an invitation to join someone else who will take responsibility for the bird. I'm happy to bring a mess of collard greens and a persimmon pudding.
Another DIL who made it through the gauntlet years! well done, and what a thing. I have very strong opinions about collards we should discuss, but yes, the persimmon pudding would be welcomed with open arms.
Ah...the memories " weigh nothing at all"....that's the paradox about them...they actually weigh the most of everything and take up the most space..(..we met briefly at aroogas in pa.)....my observation, and I must admit, I know only what you post......no matter were we go...how far we travel, it's the memories and the past that make your writings.....if you had to fly and pay for a checked bag...oh how much it would weigh....until we deal with our past.....it's only gas money being spent...you are a beautiful and sooo intelligent woman.....check that bag!!!! Miles never separate us from our past.....they might even haught us..ugh
I remember you well, Ed, and I'm so glad you are here with us. I agree - if I was running from the past, I'd get nowhere - would be too bogged down. As it is, I am free to appreciate both now and then.
I woke up in Prison for 2 years from a dui....it really helps me appreciate today like you said. Therapy would ask us are we running from or to something???..I take option c, like you...neither !!! Blazing keep writing , I try to keep up with your brain..lol such awesome writing ✍️.
Wow. This was such an immense pleasure to read, Marya. One day I’m going to ask you how many lives you’ve lived, and I want you to tell me about all of them.
And here you are, offering us a feast of richest words, and I've never felt so full. I'm so grateful for the way you gather every morsel of what is, what was, and what could be, so we don't miss a thing. Thank you for your gifts. Sending you warmth and kindness, Marya, in this season of haunted dark.
A draft of it was being workshopped at a session led by two of my favorite living writers, one man and one woman. The man (whom I adore) crossed his legs importantly and said 'I really don't think this about anything,' and the woman (whom I really adore) said, 'You wouldn't,' and went on to give an outstanding and helpful critique. The man later admitted he hadn't read past the turkey, and the woman said, 'See this is why men shouldn't be in charge of wars.'
I’m in the UK, and this is reminding me of stressful Christmas turkeys past, where women cook and fathers carve. I’m kind of relieved not to have thanksgiving.
Your illustrated essay is terrific, Marya. Thanks for sharing it.
I hope your thanksgiving on the road is a good one.
Thank you, Wendy! I hope your Christmas is entirely stress-free, when it comes. I'll post Dylan Thomas's 'Child's Christmas in Wales' then, so if stress arises you'll have something to watch while you flee.
I love the 'read-a-long' format of your essay accompanied by your voice as I read - totally brings it to life. This was such a funny, engaging, relatable piece - despite me being a vegetarian who hates cooking with no bird cooking experience! What is relatable is the struggling hopeful striving for your imagined version of the perfect thing, coupled with the very real interference of those who feel they have more experience. What a battle of trying to meet everyone's expectations when you just have a perfect picture in your head how it should turn out and go way above an beyond to achieve it. All the while losing track of exactly who you are doing all this huge effort for! An assumption on my part because it's something I have seen in myself, but maybe not your intent! Thanks for the great writing (and reading)!
My god, this is perfect.
*faints dead away*
Thank you, Matt. I've read the poem you posted this week I don't know how many times. Just spectacular.
Wow -- what a read. :)
I'm so glad you enjoyed!!
A deep and heavy, turkey scented sigh. The nightmares of thanksgivings past fill this essay, and exhume my worst memories from young bride days.
I wonder how I ever began to love thanksgiving? Oh yes, I remember.. it began with the year I caught the oven on fire! (Yes. I did this) I’d spent three days prior making an elaborate Carmel cake with chocolate and bourbon, and hid it in the oven overnight. I was very much a young bride with a 2 year old strawberry blonde sweet girl. I turned on the oven that late morning, to preheat for the turkey, guests were arriving, the doorbell rang, and the entire oven burst into flames. (I’d forgotten to remove the cake which was now burnt crisp). The molten caramel and chocolate remained on the oven coils, and I swear the turkey tasted like it was infused with a mole sauce.
I began to cry, but burst into a wild laughter, which I’ve done ever since on that wonderful holiday. Every year this makes me laugh. After that, no dinner party was as disastrous.
Trials by turkey. What nonsense, what a wild, farcical part of life, you know? I'm so glad now we can laugh.
Incredible essay. Enhanced, like the rest of your work you’ve read to us, by the manner and rhythm in which you tell the story. I am just as impressed with your performance of your works as the writing itself. It’s more powerful because of your delivery.
Thank you so much—I’m so happy you enjoyed this 🙏🏻☺️
They always told me to bring napkins, chips, or pop. One year I made a cheesecake from scratch. It was perfect. No one believed I made it. Now I need to write a cooking essay.
Do it!!! ☺️
I loved every bit of this and will remember it fondly. A masterful nightmare.
ahahahaaa!!! WELL SAID, Prajna. xo
Marya, enjoying a meal at a diner off I-40 sounds like the perfect antidote to what the holiday holds for many. Drop the pretense, lose the expectations, and just be a human who cares about other humans.
I listened to this one, smiled at the cat in the background (reminded me of our talkative one, now gone), loved the poetry of your presentation while simultaneously feeling my chest tighten from similar memories. My MIL once told me I couldn't help load the dishwasher because she did it better. 🙄 The way you interwove preparation and retrospection - just brilliant!
Anyway, I lean toward dry brining these days, better yet, an invitation to join someone else who will take responsibility for the bird. I'm happy to bring a mess of collard greens and a persimmon pudding.
May the day bring you easy joy.
Another DIL who made it through the gauntlet years! well done, and what a thing. I have very strong opinions about collards we should discuss, but yes, the persimmon pudding would be welcomed with open arms.
May the day bring the same to you.
Oohh, collard opinions. Hang on...lemme drag out my soap box. 📦
Sweet Jeezuz!
Not sure if I should be laughing at this painful comedy or sobbing over the memory of “all that shit for what”?
My apologies, I too am tired of the holidays. I don’t know why.
I don’t care.
I don’t know much.
I do know I-40 is no where near the south.
Or south enough.
oh this made me laugh
and my dear fellow it is south of NORTH.
WELL south.
xo
Ah...the memories " weigh nothing at all"....that's the paradox about them...they actually weigh the most of everything and take up the most space..(..we met briefly at aroogas in pa.)....my observation, and I must admit, I know only what you post......no matter were we go...how far we travel, it's the memories and the past that make your writings.....if you had to fly and pay for a checked bag...oh how much it would weigh....until we deal with our past.....it's only gas money being spent...you are a beautiful and sooo intelligent woman.....check that bag!!!! Miles never separate us from our past.....they might even haught us..ugh
I remember you well, Ed, and I'm so glad you are here with us. I agree - if I was running from the past, I'd get nowhere - would be too bogged down. As it is, I am free to appreciate both now and then.
I woke up in Prison for 2 years from a dui....it really helps me appreciate today like you said. Therapy would ask us are we running from or to something???..I take option c, like you...neither !!! Blazing keep writing , I try to keep up with your brain..lol such awesome writing ✍️.
Wow. This was such an immense pleasure to read, Marya. One day I’m going to ask you how many lives you’ve lived, and I want you to tell me about all of them.
It’s a date. Happy thanksgiving, Chris. ☺️
Happy Thanksgiving to you too, my friend.
And here you are, offering us a feast of richest words, and I've never felt so full. I'm so grateful for the way you gather every morsel of what is, what was, and what could be, so we don't miss a thing. Thank you for your gifts. Sending you warmth and kindness, Marya, in this season of haunted dark.
And sending those things in equal measure to you, Allison. Thank you. I am grateful to have you here.
One of my favorite essays. ♥️
A draft of it was being workshopped at a session led by two of my favorite living writers, one man and one woman. The man (whom I adore) crossed his legs importantly and said 'I really don't think this about anything,' and the woman (whom I really adore) said, 'You wouldn't,' and went on to give an outstanding and helpful critique. The man later admitted he hadn't read past the turkey, and the woman said, 'See this is why men shouldn't be in charge of wars.'
“You wouldn’t” 👏👏👏 precisely
I’m in the UK, and this is reminding me of stressful Christmas turkeys past, where women cook and fathers carve. I’m kind of relieved not to have thanksgiving.
Your illustrated essay is terrific, Marya. Thanks for sharing it.
I hope your thanksgiving on the road is a good one.
Thank you, Wendy! I hope your Christmas is entirely stress-free, when it comes. I'll post Dylan Thomas's 'Child's Christmas in Wales' then, so if stress arises you'll have something to watch while you flee.
I love the 'read-a-long' format of your essay accompanied by your voice as I read - totally brings it to life. This was such a funny, engaging, relatable piece - despite me being a vegetarian who hates cooking with no bird cooking experience! What is relatable is the struggling hopeful striving for your imagined version of the perfect thing, coupled with the very real interference of those who feel they have more experience. What a battle of trying to meet everyone's expectations when you just have a perfect picture in your head how it should turn out and go way above an beyond to achieve it. All the while losing track of exactly who you are doing all this huge effort for! An assumption on my part because it's something I have seen in myself, but maybe not your intent! Thanks for the great writing (and reading)!