I’m Giving Thanks…
Every Thanksgiving, somebody at our table suggests we go around and say what we’re thankful for. I usually say family, good health, and whoever made the pie. All sincere answers, especially the last one. This year, though, I’m adding the inventor of noise-canceling headphones. If that person ever comes to dinner, they can have the good chair.
A Little Peace on Earth
I love a house full of family. I also love the sound it makes about twenty minutes after everybody leaves. Somewhere between those two pleasures lies Thanksgiving afternoon.
The television is carrying a football game nobody is watching closely enough to know the score. Somebody in the kitchen is running the mixer. Two people are discussing the best route home, and a third, who lives in the opposite direction, has strong opinions about both routes. Meanwhile, a grandchild has discovered that the same question sounds better if you ask it louder.
I used to retreat to the porch. This works fine until somebody opens the door and asks if you’re cold. If you say yes, they tell you to come in. If you say no, they come out and join you. Either way, the porch has failed.
The Sweet Sound of Nothing
The first time I put on noise-canceling headphones, I sat there a good five minutes before remembering I could use them to listen to music. Why spoil it? I’d already found exactly what I wanted to hear.
Now, there’s a trick to wearing them at a family gathering. You want to keep one eye on the kitchen. You can miss an argument about whether the rolls need another minute in the oven and be none the poorer. Miss the moment somebody takes the foil off the pecan pie, though, and you’ll spend the rest of the afternoon wondering how your brother-in-law got two slices.
And take them off when somebody sits down beside you. Last year one of the grandkids climbed into the chair next to mine and told me, in a voice hardly above a whisper, that she’d made the place cards herself. She’d drawn a turkey on mine with eyebrows just like mine. I kept the card. In fairness to the turkey, she got the eyebrows right.
So yes, I’m thankful for a house full of people, even the ones who insist on giving directions to places they’ve never been. I’m thankful for the little girl who gave my turkey eyebrows. And when the dishes are done and somebody turns up the television to hear the postgame show, I’m thankful for the little button on my left ear.
Happy Thanksgiving. Save me a piece of pie. If I don’t answer, save it anyway.
