I give thanks for new friends and old.
Thanksgiving is the most American of American holidays. It is a 4-day long weekend that skillfully combines food, football and family, and ever since my first year in America, as a Teacher’s assistant in Syracuse, NY it has been a dream of mine to be invited to a Thanksgiving weekend in the home of an American family, preferably one with a fireplace to sit by and enjoy hot cocoa (even though I am lactose intolerant and would probably fart the family in to oblivion).
But after moving to New York 10 years ago I gave up on my dream. Why? Because my New York friends, American or not, are, without exception, New York Orphans (henceforth to be referred to as NYOs). NYOs are people who have no family in the tri-state area that they can spend four whole days with, let alone bring their Indian friend and her husband to. Some of them zip home on Thursday morning via the Metro North, eat with their family, and then zip back the same evening or the next day. The rest don’t even have that option, America is a big country and families live too far away.
So instead I would celebrate Thanksgiving with other NYOs. The Sethis, The Bilbys, The Kojics/Poliacks, The Talwalkars, The List Is A Long One. These gatherings are usually a pretty casual affair, and to prove it here is a sample of an invitation I got from friend and fellow NYO Keith Nealon, I have not edited it, this is exactly what I got in my email:
“Hey…thanksgiving?…put you down for drink n anal?”
And so it went. Until this year when the director of my show Brock Savage asked me and my husband to spend Thanksgiving with him and his family in Standish, Maine! His sister (Tammy) and brother-in-law (Shaun) have a vacation home on a lake, and every year the family gets together to spend the weekend there. I could not say no to that so I said yes please!
Because I haven’t the talent to be pithy, and because my allotted time for writing the blog this week is up, I have not described my Maine experience in detail. Instead here are some important stats and some pictures from one of the best the weekends I have ever had ever!
Family members at gathering:
Mom and Dad Savage, Tammy and Shaun, Catlyn (Brock’s niece) Donahue, Brock, and us. Or as Brock called it, “ Three couples, the ingénue, and the old maid”.
Total amount of Food/drink items consumed over the Thankgiving weekend by me alone:
Own body weight in Banana Cream Pie with whipped topping.
Husband’s body weight in corn bread and sausage stuffing.
40 kilograms turkey (with TGing meal and in sandwiches).
39 kilograms assorted pies (apple, apple crisp, strawberry rhubarb) a la mode.
1 whoopie pie (for the ignorant this is two slabs of rich, fudgey chocolate cake, with a thick layer of frosting holding them together).
65 kilograms of roasted pecans (eaten plain by shoving a handful at a time in to my gob, or on top of banana cream pie, on top of assorted pie and whoopie pie, and liberally sprinkled in the very small salad I force fed myself out of guilt).
Wine, bubbley, rum and hot water (I did not bother to record quantities because liquids are hard to keep track of).
Total hours dedicated to football viewing:
Zero.
PHOTOS!
The House on The Lake: Thanks to the fact that Deepak was in-charge of the camera, we have no pictures of the house we stayed in. But we do have pictures of some other houses that I have included to give you a feel for the place. We also have no pictures of the fireplace.
The Lake: We (thankfully) have some pictures of the lake from the Donahue deck.
Lake by sunset (ish).
L.L.Bean: This is a major shop in Maine. The boot in the photograph is their most famous product. While at L.L.Bean I purchased green rain boots, also known as ‘wellingtons’, ‘galoshes’ or, and in my opinion most charmingly, ‘shit kickers’. And that is our host, Shaun Donahue, being his normal self.
Dead Moose: To me a moose signifies majesty and mystique. Here he is, sadly robbed of both, in the hunting section at L.L. Bean.
Inbreeding: I was told there was a little brother-sister love going on in some parts of Maine, but putting up signs like this is just mean. (Brock and I go for a walk).
Sock Monkey: A Sock Monkey is a monkey made of socks. Tammy Craft Genius Donahue made TWO of them right in front of me, here is proof.
My own Sock Monkey: I got to keep the ‘trial monkey’ – and that’s him back in NY with the orphans!
Dude, I LOVE that part of Maine. My college ex is from there, and my dad’s family used to spend a lot of time up there, so I know the area pretty well. One of my doomsday scenarios: if New York falls apart for me, I’m moving up to Maine, buying a house on farmland, and filling it with guns and liquor. I’d be one happy son of a bitch up there.
Had no idea you were looking for an American Thanksgiving. I’d have invited you to ours, but lately someone dies EVERY THANKSGIVING WEEKEND. Our holiday tradition is losing family members. I think one of the verses in 12 Days of Christmas is ’7 Drummeys croaking.’
Loved this one , The pix were really nice, very romantic . but what tickled me most was imagining you farting your host off to oblivion !!!! Gosh radz how do you even think of things like this ….