At some point in my hectic existence, I may have dreamed of a family reenactment of the Norman Rockwell painting of the perfect Thanksgiving – family gathered at the table with the mother placing the turkey, ready for carving, in front of her husband. In this fantasy world, everyone is perfect, smiling and sharing the time together with family while offering thanks to the almighty God for the abundance in their lives. Rarely does this scene materialize in the here and now of reality – TVs are blasting out football, everyone is either on a cell phone or gaming on an electronic device while discussing what time Best Buy and Wal-Mart will open so they can escape the domestic scene. But it is a time for family gatherings and we actually want to be with those who normally drive us crazy on every other day in the year.
It has been difficult to get my immediate family, consisting of only three of us, to gather on Thanksgiving Day but that does not stop a fool-hearted mother from trying. Due to a career choice, my son who lives in Charlotte, North Carolina, must cook and “break down” about a hundred and fifty turkeys on Thanksgiving each year so he does not want to see another bird on this blessed day. My husband is about 12 hours away in Virginia and doesn’t like turkey and I surely don’t want to stick my hand up the carcass of a frozen bird to pull out things I wouldn’t know what to do with anyway at 6 am on any morning. So thinking that the gathering is more important than the bird, we have been known to find an in-between spot to gather and enjoy a meal at a Cracker Barrel Restaurant. We did this four years ago and each of us drove to Asheville, South Carolina and spent Thanksgiving Day queued in line at the restaurant for one hour and 15 minutes. Two years ago, my husband and I joined our son in Huntsville, Alabama and shared an over-priced shrimp and steak dinner at Ruth Chris Steak House. With the tradition previously established, this year on Thanksgiving Day, I headed north for a seven-hour drive while my husband traveled south for four hours to spend the meal with our son at the Cracker Barrel in Charlotte. We converged, shared a meal sans turkey and enjoyed the gathering. The Thanksgiving got off to a pleasant start but soon headed elsewhere in the netherworld on Saturday.
After saying our good byes – following breakfast at the Cracker Barrel – on Saturday morning – we left Charlotte, I on I-85 South to Tuscaloosa, my husband on I-85 North to Virginia. About 12 miles out of Charlotte, my car died. Every indicator light beeped and blinked and losing power, I pulled off the interstate and into an abandoned Citgo station in what can only be described as the “hood” in Gastonia, North Carolina. Dead as a doornail the car was, as Dickens would say. I called my husband and asked him to turn around and head to Gastonia, called the Mini Dealership in Charlotte for service, called my son to get a wrecker and waited for my rescue. I was hauled into Charlotte and after the diagnostics were performed, the mechanics determined that my car needed an alternator – in stock in Jacksonville, Florida – a new battery, and an oil change. The alternator would arrive on Tuesday morning. Not wanting to be in a hotel room in Charlotte, with no transportation for 3 days, I headed to Amelia Court House, Virginia (yes, there is such a place) and the RV park at Amelia Family Campground with my husband. What fun.
To use the old cliché of being “stressed-out” doesn’t describe my emotions as we headed north. First I got a call from the car dealership to verify the charges on my car repairs, $2196.00. This Saturday was also the Iron Bowl game and my team forgot to show up for the event resulting in an obscene amount of toilet paper being thrown in Tooman’s Corner along with a dismal outlook on #17 for the good guys. Eventually we arrived at our 10’ x 20’ accommodations that would be home sweet home for the next 2½ days. Lamenting over my misery, I sent a text to a fellow board member with a picture of the RV park lake, home of 254 squawking geese, and received the response to enjoy the quality time and to smell the roses. Good advice, but all I saw was desolation and remoteness.
Sunday was spent reading, napping and utter boredom but on Monday we did go to Colonial Heights where my husband had a meeting. He dropped me off at the mall for shopping before he went into the office. The mall was somewhat similar to McFarland Mall 10 years ago – in other words, dead. It took me less than 45 minutes to cruise all the stores including both floors of the Macy’s. I went outside to wait to be picked up and what did I see? There, in full bloom, on the side of Macy’s was a rose and the reminder to take time to smell the roses.
Looking back over the 6 days known as the Thanksgiving from Hell, I saw many roses to be thankful for – family time, cute geese, a safe trip, and safe return to Tuscaloosa. Plans are already in progress for next year with a location closer to home for this weary traveler. Who knows, maybe I’ll just stay home and stick my hand up the butt of a frozen turkey and pull out a rose.
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