It’s that time of year again. Time for families to gather and eat turkeys and pass out in food comas in front of the tv watching football games. Thanksgiving is a family time. Unfortunately, not everyone has a joyous time at Thanksgiving because they either don’t have any family left, or maybe they are estranged from their family they do have. One of my friends is going the be alone this Thanksgiving for the first time in seven years because he and his long time girlfriend split up back in March. He’s picking up a shift at the security job where he works since he doesn’t have any dinners to go to.

I don’t know which is worse, to not be able to be around your family for one reason or another — some legitimate, some petty as hell — or to simply have no family to gather with anymore. Budge and I fall into the latter group. I grew up having great Thanksgivings. In fact, one of the only things I found somewhat beneficial about having divorced parents was the fact I got to eat TWO Thanksgiving meals.

For the first few years of my life, starting once I was big enough to follow along, I went hunting with Daddy and some friends and family on Thanksgiving morning. Thanksgiving has traditionally been the opening day for rabbit season in South Carolina, and Daddy had a pack of beagles he loved to hear run rabbits. He would pick me up early in the morning from Mama’s, if I hadn’t spent the night at his house, then we would hunt for a few hours, and he would take me back to Mama’s so I could wash up and we could go to wherever we were having Thanksgiving lunch. We had choices depending on which great-aunts were cooking that year, but they all could cook better than anyone else I knew.

After lunch, Mama and I would go to Fountain Inn where Mama would drop me off with Papa and Granny Wham. Papa, Uncle Larry, and I would watch football together in the den. Lots of years, I didn’t get to see much playing time because I would fall into a turkey induced deep sleep for a couple of hours. I’d wake up once Daddy and Teresa, my stepmother, got there though. Then it would be time for Thanksgiving Meal Round Two. Granny laid out quite a spread for Thanksgiving supper. I had no problem eating that second meal though.

No matter how much I had eaten at lunch, I always had room for Granny Wham’s bone dry turkey and my own pan of dressing. Yes, I got my own small pan of dressing cooked for me at Thanksgiving and Christmas because I didn’t like onions, so Granny Wham made me my own little pan without onions. Drove Daddy crazy, but Granny didn’t want to hear it. Aunt Cathy was always first in line to fix her plate. That was because she had to be the first to pick which yeast roll or biscuit she wanted. That’s just the way it was. Drove Daddy crazy, but Granny didn’t want to hear it.

When I became a teenager and started dating, things got a little complicated as I now had a girlfriend who wanted to eat with her family and mine. So, for a couple of years, I ate THREE and every once FOUR Thanksgiving meals on Thanksgiving Day. That did strain my belt loops and I had to learn to pace myself. Granny noticed and made a unilateral decision. She moved our Thanksgiving meal to the Sunday after Thanksgiving. For the rest of my teenage years and into my twenties, that’s when we ate Thanksgiving.

Then came 1995. Granny Wham had a stroke in July and Papa Wham died three days later from the shock. Teresa took over the family meals. I’ll say this about my stepmother, she can cook. She can cook up a storm. I waddled away from her table many times in my life. We still had Thanksgiving on Sunday after Thanksgiving. It did make things easier. I got to eat with Mama, and then go eat with my girlfriend.

Sometime along the way, Mama started cooking Thanksgiving at her house. Mama could cook, too. (Does anyone see why I was such a fat kid growing up?) When Budge and I got married, we would eat lunch or supper with her Dad and Sandy and Sandy’s family, then eat with Mama for the other time slot. At least that’s what we did until we stopped eating Thanksgiving with Dad and Sandy for some years, but that’s a story for another time, and it’s really Budge’s story to tell, not mine, so you’ll probably never see it here.

Then, Mama’s health started failing and she no longer felt up to cooking a full Thanksgiving meal and doing all the prep work and clean up it required, even with Budge and I helping. That’s when we started eating Thanksgiving lunch at Ryan’s Steakhouse. It was a buffet more than a steakhouse and they were open on Thanksgiving Day at 10:00 am. We’d get there about 10:30 am and eat plenty and not have to clean up anything. It was great.

Then, faster than I could process it, Granny Wham was gone. She hadn’t cooked the meal in several years by that time, but she was there, and she was the heart of the family after Papa Wham died, then she was gone. Then, not long enough later, Mama was gone, too. Thanksgiving just wasn’t the same anymore. It didn’t help that Teresa decided to combine Thanksgiving and Christmas meals into one date because all of us were grown and had our own families and it was nearly impossible for everyone to get together twice in such a short period as Thanksgiving to Christmas.

With Mama gone and us not really associating with Dad and Sandy, that left Budge and I to our own devices on Thanksgiving. For a number of years, we ate Thanksgiving lunch at our friend Laura’s house with her family, but COVID did that in, among other things. So it was down to just Budge and me. These years, Budge has taken over and we have our own Thanksgiving tradition to celebrate. We get up and watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade until all the Broadway shows have done their part. Then, we go to Cracker Barrel about 11:00 am and eat their Thanksgiving special. It’s not Granny Wham, Mama, or Teresa, but it’s not terrible.

After we eat, we ride around in the car and, at noon, we listen to “Alice’s Restaurant” on WROQ 101.1. If you don’t know the song, it’s twenty minutes long, it’s a story, and it takes place around Thanksgiving. I love it and introduced Budge to it some years ago. After “Alice” goes off, we head home for naps. I’ll get up and watch some football while Budge piddles on her phone. Then, after dark, around 7:00 or 7:30, we’ll go to the Waffle House for Thanksgiving supper.

I really appreciate all Budge has done these last few years to create something for us to look forward to on Thanksgiving. I always get depressed badly this time of year because almost all my family is gone. Now, Budge’s Dad is gone, too, so it really is the two of us. She does a great job of giving our little family of two our own traditions to enjoy and, again, I appreciate all the work she does to make the day go well.

So, that’s this year’s Thanksgiving post. Hope you all have a great Thanksgiving wherever you are. Love y’all, and keep your feet clean.