I realized this weekend, as I was looking for Thanksgiving pictures (and found exactly three) that people don't take a lot of pictures on the "feast of roast bird". Well, at least in northern MN in the late 70's and 80's in my family they didn't.
I have buckets of pictures from christmas, birthdays and Halloween, but the holiday centered around eating until we bust a vessel and Uncle Bob drinks too much Lambrusco and starts a fight with Grandma about who was more poor in the depression and then everyone falls asleep in front of the TV which is showing a "very special" Facts of Life?
Here's what I've got:
For a few years, we raised chickens, turkeys and piggies. this meant that out T-day gobbler was "fresh from the farm", so to speak. This is a picture of the Turkeys we had in 1980, which was a good year compared to the year that I accidentally left the door to the coop open once and all of the turkeys escaped and were subsequently killed by our dog. That was a sad thanksgiving indeed. And, in case you're wondering- dog tastes nothing like turkey. Nothing at all.
And no, we didn't name the turkeys. They were kind of mean and we (read: me) were scared of them. Angry, pecking little fuckers.
Ours was not a Hallmark Holiday Special sort of Turkey day. We did not get dressed up, we didn't pull out the best china, crystal and silver. We didn't give Manuela, our maid, the day off and have a good larf over the fact that we accidentally put the lobster fork next to the grapefruit spoon whilst setting the table.
No, we pretty much just slopped everything in mismatched bowls, dropped it on the table and got the hell out of the way.
But as you can see from the fridge, we went all out with the decorations.
Oh, and you can also see that my Dad ditched the mustache that year, but kept the Jeff Lynne-esque glasses.
Finally, this one is from the year my Mom decided that we should all sit at the same table and eat like civilized people.
All I remember about this year is that conversation took an ugly turn (being that we were all forced to sit and look at one another while eating), and screaming ensued. This may have been the year that my Grandma and Grandpa were yelling at each other about who directed "Gone with the Wind". Years later, when I bothered to look it up, I realized they were both wrong.
And yes- the children are drinking wine here. We had a very "European" approach to things at the VonPartypants household. children drank wine (grape juice), many "pommes frites" were consumed, and our dog was named "Oui" (Wee).
You can see that once again no expense was spared where the decorations were concerned. Only the finest paper turkeys graced our table.
The year after this we totally kicked it up a notch and put one of these at each "place setting"(paper plates & plastic silverware):
Put THAT in your pipe and smoke it, Martha Stewart. Hell yeah!
Happy Monday, my little giblet gravy-slathered stuffing balls. Happy Monday.