Burned into my memory ... like Mama's biscuits

This year, Thanksgiving Day dinner is a big deal for the Eaves household. It’s the last time my sisters and I will gather together while still sharing the same last name. While I’m thankful for my future brother-in-law — and likewise the approaching destination wedding in tropical Tulum, Mexico — I’m a bit nostalgic as our final unwed days draw nigh. And so this Thursday, I’ll combat my Thanksgiving Day despondency with a dose of holiday humor.

Every Thanksgiving Day, there are two constant companions at the Eaves family dinner table — a “box-packaged” pumpkin pie and a basket full of Mama’s burnt biscuits.

“Dinner sure was good, Mama,” I moaned after last year’s feast. Glancing below, I gawked at my bulging belly, which drooped over a denim waistline that poorly concealed my post-giblet gravy jiggle.

“Thank you, darling,” Mama smiled as she sliced her Sara Lee pumpkin pie, adding dollops of Cool Whip to the after-dinner treat.

While Mama served up slices of the pie that “Nobody doesn’t like,” my oldest sister reached her hand into the still-bountiful bread basket and snagged one of Mama’s black-bottomed biscuits.

“Delicious!” she jabbed, joined by a series of sisterly snickers.

Mama stopped smiling.

And so did Daddy, who’d long ago learned to avoid such cackling conflicts. As Daddy’s nostrils flared a distress signal to my sisters and me, he polished his plate with his bare thumb, licking up every crumb – even the burnt ones.

Now, in addition to burnt bread and pre-prepared pumpkin pies, my family has another turkey day tradition — a sisterly squabble. Dating back to childhood, these spats typically spark after supper. And while the family feud is never resolved, it somehow subsides with the push of the power button on Daddy’s flat screen TV.

“Let’s watch a movie!” Audrey suggested after supper as she prepared hot chocolate for the family. And so, we sisters grabbed our marshmallow-topped mugs, a second slice of pumpkin pie, and piled onto Mama’s living room couch.

“Give me a pillow!” I fussed while Audrey laid claim to the cushioned headrest.

“I’m the oldest. I’m entitled!” Wendy said as she conquered the couch with outstretched legs, knocking both baby sister Audrey and me onto the floor, relegating us to lower status as she displayed her oldest sibling sovereignty.

“Don’t mess up my living room!” Mama scolded, while foretelling our fate if we spilled hot chocolate onto her carpeted floor or her hard-earned couch.

About that time, the back porch door opened and swiftly swung shut. And while Daddy settled onto the outside stoop, he lit a cigarette.

“What are we going to watch?” I asked the indoor, tempered trio.

“Well, I think one of these would be nice,” Mama said, as she grabbed two VHS tapes from our childhood movie collection.

And so, the seasonal scrap erupted over none other than Charlie Brown and his beagle best friend, Snoopy.

“I want to watch “Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown!” I said, grabbing the Charles Schulz Christmas classic from Mama’s hands and waving it to the jury.

“No,” Wendy bickered back. “It’s Thanksgiving! I want to watch ‘A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving.’ ”

Our opening arguments soon transitioned into a shouting match, leaving little room for arbitration. And although I defended the Charlie Brown Christmas special, it was Wendy’s closing statement that closed the case.

“Snoopy cooks Thanksgiving dinner in my movie,” Wendy said. “He cooks popcorn and toast.”

As last year’s customary quarrel concluded with laughter, my sisters and I snuggled together on Mama’s living room couch and watched Wendy’s case-winning “A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving.” And then, we traded VHS tapes for an encore presentation of “Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown!” My sisters and I soon said our “good nights.” And later that evening after I settled into bed, I thanked God for Thanksgiving Day, for Mama’s burnt biscuits, for Sara Lee’s pumpkin pies. And for Wendy and Audrey, who will remain my sisters despite a change in last names — or their preference in Peanuts movies.



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