Dear Lyla,
As Thanksgiving approaches this November I have noticed that many of my friends, family and students are focusing on what they are grateful for. The social media feeds are filled with short but sweet statements about love for family, pets and food. Reading these offerings of gratitude in the twitterverse and blogosphere has me considering what I am grateful for. Although I would like to write a few hundred words of sweetness that would give readers a cavity, I cannot. Not because I am not thankful for you, daddy, my health, and our family (even Gigi); but because every time I hear the phrase “I am thankful for….” I think back to the first Thanksgiving I had with your daddy at Grandma Carolyn’s house. The previous year we had spent the holiday with Grandpa Dwight and Grandma Terry; and so the Thanksgiving that is the subject of this story was very important to Grandma Carolyn as she held all of her children and their significant others captive for a holiday feast. By this point I had known your Grandma Carolyn for an entire year. Her cooking had not improved substantively during that time and so daddy and I ate before we went to Grandma’s. I am pretty sure Aunt Sara and Uncle Aaron ate before the meal too. Please don’t judge, there was plenty of evidence to suggest that if we had not dined prior to the meal we would still be hungry after it. When we arrived at the house we were stunned by the smells coming from the kitchen; it smelled delicious! Your daddy and I went to investigate the fragrance emanating from the oven. Sure enough Grandma Carolyn had cooked a bird and it wasn’t burnt; we began to feel a glimmer of hope. Your grandma had gone to a lot of trouble to set a beautiful table and I am sure she was bound and determined that this Thanksgiving would be different; this time her children would revel in her culinary skills and praise her talents. It was not to be. Grandma wanted her bird perfectly brown like the pictures you see on the front of the magazines in the check-out lines at the supermarket. Perhaps this should be your first lesson in marketing little one, rarely does a bird come out of the oven looking like that; Photoshop and food decorators are mostly responsible for those images. Nevertheless, your grandma was determined that her turkey would be brown and succulent; and so, in true Grandma Carolyn fashion, she took the foil off the bird and cranked up the broiler in the misguided assumption that fast, direct heat would brown her turkey. Needless to say the turkey was black and crispy rather than brown and juicy. I do believe that grandma’s heart may have broken a little that day to see her Thanksgiving Day offering literally go up in smoke. As we sat down for dinner your grandma tried to salvage the spirit of the meal by asking everyone to go around the table and ask what they were most grateful for. Of course they started with me since I was the newest member of the family and I said something along the lines of “I am grateful for my new family.” Then it was your daddy’s turn, the ringleader of this particular holiday circus, and he said “I am grateful there is a lot of gravy on this table.” Then it was Sarah’s turn who said “I am grateful for the milk.” Finally, Aaron quipped “I am grateful that McDonald’s is open.” By this time the adults at the table had disintegrated into full blown laughter over the charred monstrosity of a turkey that was to be their Thanksgiving feast. You may ask, “What does this have to do with being thankful?” Well little one, I am thankful for humor and grace. Your daddy, Aunt Sara and Uncle Aaron are some of funniest folks I know and, in retrospect, it was their humor that made that holiday one of the most memorable I have ever witnessed. I am also thankful for grace. Your Grandma Carolyn, while not adept at cooking, was incredibly graceful that day. Instead of getting angry at her children, she saw the teasing for what it was; affection and acceptance. After that day I knew that I may never find an edible meal at Grandma Carolyn’s but I would always find love.
Letters To Lyla 