š¦ #10: Thanksgiving at home is (kinda) overrated
That time we ate Not Turkey for Thanksgiving and our older brother lost us at Disney World
Hey, Happy Thanksgiving! Iām writing this from my momās porch outside of Houston, TX, my āofficialā hometown. Whenever I come here, I always make haste to two spots: the back porch, full of serenity from the plants, wind chimes, and right amount of light. And the refrigerator which usually has some kind of cake in it but this time its primary occupants are 3 large containers of cool whip and 1 box of Sunset Blush Franzia wine. This just screams āhomeā to me.
New to āDad Storiesā? I post 1-2x a week with stories from when I was a kid, stories about my kids, and traveling with kids. Subscribe to get this sweet sweet newsletter in your inbox.
I was determined to sit down and write a Thanksgiving newsletter this week. Something about sitting around, eating turkey, listening to momās stories, wondering what random turkey and cheese sandwiches my brothers would try to make with the leftovers. Curious to see if my sister would foist a cake decorating contest on us. Then it occurred to me. I have no Thanksgiving stories.
My mom tells the best stories, regardless of the holiday.
My brothers would turn any protein into a sandwich with a Kraft single on Thanksgiving, Christmas, Arbor Day, you name it.
And my sisterās love for making the most novice of cake bakers into champion cake decorators was really a Christmas activity (until tomorrow Iām told).
The advantage of writing a family themed newsletter and being home for the most family oriented of holidays is I can tell my mom that Iām stumped. I canāt think of any good Thanksgiving stories to share that weave both family parables and humor into a single, cohesive story.Ā
Then my mom looked at me and said āwell, there was that time Chris (my oldest brother) lost you and Andy (my younger brother) at Disney World when you were 12?ā Brilliant! Problem solved.
So here we go.
It was 1989, give or take. We were still a struggling family doing what we could to make ends meet. And by āweā I mean my mom because my lazy ass was only 12 and we didnāt live in some Dickens novel where I could go work in a coal mine to help put bread on the table. Around this time my nana (momās mom) died up in New Jersey. I had only met her a few times and if Iām being honest, I donāt know that I was all that distraught by her passing. My mom flew up to Jersey to help take care of things related to Nanaās passing. Namely cashing all the rolls of nickels and dimes Nana had stashed in various drawers around the house nstead of gambling them at the slots in Atlantic City. And selling her modest house. We did not become rich overnight but itās safe to say we became middle class.
When mom had a sudden influx of cash, she did two things:Ā
We went to the dentist (we all know that dental insurance isnāt combined with health insurance and this severely screws over poorer Americans (A story for another day though)
We went to Disney World
My mom decided to pair the trip to visit Grandma (dadās mom) in St. Petersburg with a trip to Disney World in Orlando, only a few hours away. My grandma, Lillian, or āBig Lilā as we loved to call her behind her back, was a tough old New Yorker who had migrated to Florida back in the 60s when my grandpa had retired. If you werenāt White Anglo Saxon Protestant (WASP), she hated your ass. Blacks? Not a fan. Catholics? They could get lost. Asians? WHY ARE THEY HERE? You get the picture. She was a bad dude. We ended up eating Not Thanksgiving Dinner with grandma because apparently she also hated Turkey (we instead had Crown Roast of Pork which is something I still have not had again in my life). The Not Turkey caused quite a fracas because my youngest brother Andy, only 10 at the time, thought it was impure that we would dare eat Thanksgiving without a turkey. His epic explosion combined with my Grandmaās overt hatred of all things non WASP heralded our immediate departure for the happiest of happy places, The Magic Kingdom. Off to Disney we went.
The only vacation in my entire life that I can recall that involved all of my natural siblings and me was this trip to Disney. Chris, the oldest, then about 23 years old, Amy, the second oldest, about 20, me at 12 years old, and Andy at 10. And my mom. In fact, this is probably one of only a half dozen instances IN MY ENTIRE LIFE that I can easily recall of my brothers and sister together in one place. Age differences man.
The trip was pretty grand. We stayed at the Contemporary hotel, the one with the damn Monorail running through the middle of it. We ate luxurious breakfasts every morning (you know, pancakes AND sausages). We went to all the parks. It was a blast.
Towards the end of the trip, my mom and sister wanted to do something on their own one evening. My mom, against her better judgment, sent the boys off together. Chris would be in charge and Andy and I would follow along dutifully. The challenge with this arrangement is that Chris is kind of an idiot. He is also super tall. Like 6ā4. Not Kareem Abdul Jabar tall but middle linebacker tall. Now being dumb and tall are rarely a recipe for disaster. However, he always walked like the cops were 2 steps behind him (which, in many cases, was likely true). This is fine and all until you have 2 pre-pubescent boys youāre in charge of following you constantly asking āhey Chris, can you slow down?ā
Except he never slowed down. Like, ever.
Magic Kingdom is a busy place teeming with people pouring out of every little nook and cranny. Chris was on the pursuit of something with Andy and I following behindā¦.until we lost him. āWhereās Chris!ā I asked. āI dunnoā said Andy. We waited in that one spot for probably 10 minutes, wondering when Chris would come back for us. Except he didnāt. Knowing his roadrunner ass he was probably halfway to Epcot when he realized his two kid brothers were long gone.Ā
Andy, the wild card hot head, actually displayed the one bit of good sense. āWe should wait here. We learned this in Cub Scouts. When you get separated, always stay putā
TJ, the responsible one, actually displayed the one bit of terrible advice. āThereās an arcade over there. We have some money. Letās go play video games?ā
It took Andy about .5 seconds to say āthatās a good ideaā. So we went to the arcade and played video games for about an hour. I remember it being sort of intoxicating to be alone and separated from everyone. We were old enough to be somewhat confident away from the people in charge of us. This was an era before cell phones and pagers and other electronic means for communicating with people. No one knew where we were. So we used our time to get good as shit at Street Fighter.Ā
Our Street Fighter ecstasy came to an end about 2 hours into our disappearance when Chris somehow found us and came up behind me and grabbed me by the arm and said āWHERE HAVE YOU TWO BEEN!?!ā He tried to find some way to avoid telling our mom about the incident but it came out pretty quick. He accused us of screwing around and losing him on purpose. We accused him of walking too fast. It all became part of Thanksgiving lore that involved Racist Grandma serving us Not Turkey and our older brother losing us at Disney World. I somehow forgot this story until my mom reminded me of it.
This story is probably why, as a kid, I always thought of Thanksgiving as a transient holiday. It was the short halftime show at a college football game when the band came out and played some song you havenāt heard in 20 years. The first half was Halloween and the second half was Christmas and in between everyone kinda stopped paying attention. The holiday you kinda forgot about until you got left behind at Disney.
Addendum 1:. as I was writing the story my mom reminded me that she got pretty loaded on the flight home and was wondering the aisles whooping it up with the other passengers like Kristen Wiig from Bridesmaids. I donāt remember this part, most likely as an act of self preservation.
Addendum 2: we did not name our oldest daughter, Lil, after Crazy Racist Grandma. She is named after awesome Great Aunt Lil on Meganās side. It just so happens that there are two Lilās in our family. OK?
Addendum 3: anyone who reads to the end of this should DM me on IG and I will send you a tshirt. @tjmuehleman