this is true

On Thanksgivings Past

We were living in Austin, Texas, and had invited a few friends to join us for Thanksgiving dinner. They didn't have family locally either, so it just made sense. We were all misfits in our own right.

Since it was only four of us, I decided not to go overboard. We would start with pumpkin soup, then have turkey with stuffing, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, and homemade cranberry sauce. For dessert someone was bringing pie.

On Thanksgiving morning I got up, got out the bird and turned on the oven so it would preheat. Then I set to work cleaning, drying, and seasoning the turkey. As my hands were full of butter and spice, I asked B to check on the thermometer we had in the oven. He took a peek and said it was under 100F, which meant the oven hadn't gone on. To be fair, I didn't recall hearing that sound that a gas oven makes when the oven come to life. I figured I had missed it while my head was in the fridge.

No problem, I told B. I figured the pilot had just gone off, and that was something I knew how to do. I have been dealing with old and tempermental ovens for many years, and probably learned to light the oven pilot when I was in 4th or 5th grade.

So I got down on the floor (after washing my hands), and checked on the pilot. Surprisingly, it was lit! Then what could it be? I was stumped.

To be fair we hadn't used the oven in several weeks due to the weather that is Austin, and the fact that the kitchen was poorly shaped and tiny. Opening the oven meant blocking the rest of the kitchen. Truly I don't know how we survived there for five years, especially given that that is the longest I have ever lived in a home. Thankfully it was a rental, but I figured calling the landlord on Thanksgiving wouldn't do us much good.

Luckily one of the friends who was coming for dinner was quite handy. He loved to tinker with things, so I called and asked if he could come over early and have a look - otherwise it was soup and mashed potatoes and pie for us. Thankfully he agreed, and even managed to get it working. I think we ended up having dinner around 9pm!

Still it was pretty touch and go there for a while. I distracted myself chopping and peeling the vegetables. Given that access to the stove was cut off while he was working, it was the only thing I could do to keep from going crazy.

Our friend noted that he really didn't feel comfortable with us living with such a monster of a stove. He felt it was a fire just waiting to happen. He was genuinely concerned. I thought this would help when I called the owner of the house, and they would finally just replace it, but later that week their handyman, Wilburn, arrived and said he could fix it. Really that should have been the signal that it was time to move. Instead we would endure a heating unit that rotted through the ceiling, a real estate agent who admitted he was dumber than pond scum, and a squirrel coming down the chimney. That's all true too.

But truly the lesson here is a simple one. Tomorrow isn't about the food. It isn't even specifically about family. It is about being human and reaching out to your fellow man (and woman).



on the night stand :: The Girls