November, 2025—Fall is here; the days have grown shorter, the air crispier. Dawn is a golden brush stroke against a slate sky and as I let Lettie Lou outside to do her early morning business, I notice that except for a few twitchy leaves shimmering in the wind the trees are almost bare.
Thanksgivings just around the bend.
Doggie heading toward a clump of backyard bushes, coffee cup in hand, I sink into my recliner and reach for pen and paper, so I can send a Thanksgiving invite to family and a few friends.
I’m Tommy the Turkey, and I’m flappin’ frayed wings,
But one more time y’all, I’m gonter sing.
My doors ‘ll be open on Thanksgiving Day
An’ I’m hopin’ to goodness, you’ll come my way.
Cawn bread dressin’ an’ sweet taters be laid out for you,
An some pee can pie, an veggies will be boilin’ too.
So, this one more time, I hope all of y’all I’ll see,
An if’n I do, you’ll hear a loud whoopee!
Your grandmama, ur, Lottie Bee
Turkey Day always holds a special place in my heart; more than a celebration and feasting on delicious food, it’s when we get with family and friends, enjoy one another’s company and catch up on each other’s lives.
It’s also a day filled with unforgettable memories, some that we would like to forget. Our family can be a few peas short of a casserole when it comes to celebrating a perfect holiday. Sometimes we trip and fall during this day of togetherness, and a few of those cringe-belly moments of disaster end up being some of the best and funniest Thanksgiving Day memories ever.
As always, the tables will be set for anywhere from 22 to 38or 40 people. I can’t run on fast forward anymore, but I have family who pitch in and help; I know how to sigh and look pitiful. While I have Thanksgiving on my mind, I get up from the chair to check and see if we had any ham or turkey left from last year.
Nope.
Some of the family usually brings something, so I called son Bill to see if he wanted to contribute ham or turkey.
“Either one. I’ll get back with you later on that.” He laughed. “And I had something else in mind, too. I’ll bring Bambi for an appetizer!”
“We’ll talk about that later,” I said, hanging up the phone.
I’m sure like other folks we all aim and shoot for a memorable Turkey Day, but in our close-knit group, holidays don’t always follow a game plan.
Pouring another cup of coffee, my heart pounds in my chest. I fall back in my chair, remembering a Thanksgiving many, many moons back when son Bill called at the last minute to say, no turkey-he was going to bring a surprise dish.
That collapsing Turkey Day started off with a bang when teen-age grandson John David burst through the door. And the day went down from there!
“I shot Bambi!” he yelled triumphantly. “He’ll be on the table!”
With those words his four-year old brother Christian fell to the floor.
“You shot Bambi?” he sobbed. “We can’t eat him! I love Bambi.”
We survived as a family, but no deer meat was eaten.
I sent granddaughter Katie on an emergency trip to the grocery to buy meat. She came back with packages of sandwiched ham.
I smeared cranberry jelly over skin-thin ham slices, rolled them, stuck a decorative toothpick in each, and presented our main course to the waiting, anxious, hungry, crowd. "And this is from the Boggan family cookbook, I wrote and gave y’all.” (that none of you read)
“An y’all--gobble ‘til you wobble--it won’t git much butter than that.”
I won’t say I heard any belly laughs with those words; there were a few chuckles but there’ve been other times we laughed until tears streamed down our cheeks.
Overall though, we’re more in tune with reconnecting with each other than allowing those embarrassing, funny moments to rule the roost. Ballgames and parades booming in the background, we embrace these short opportunities to join with one another and to find out what’s been going in each other’s lives. We have a large family, as well as many friends who are like family, so someone is often in a state of flux or an ongoing crisis of some kind. Like skimming fat off the turkey broth, we smooth the heart lumps the best we can as we slow down and cherish those connections that enrich our lives.
Gathering at the table, our bond is very strong.
Here with family and friends, where we belong.
We share memories of those who are gone
And of our love, that lingers on.
Thanksgiving, I muse—a celebration of love, memory, and togetherness, it brings us all together in a tapestry of cherished people, warmth, memories and laughter.
A barking dog breaks into my thoughts.
Back to the here and now. I need to call Bill and work things out.
I get up to let Lettie Lou in, and punch in Bill’s telephone number.
“Christian’s son Wyatt isn’t much older than you were when we had that long ago Bambi debacle! So, no, Bill! No Bambi this year!”
A happy bark, and my dog slides through the door.
“But, you can present your appetizer as a prize-winning dish from the famous, Boggan Best Seller Cookbook.”
Lettie Lou’s wiggly tail thumps my legs as if in agreement.
