Murfin’s
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| It turns out that this illustration, swiped from a children's book, was actually created by Theresa Murfin! Gotta be some kind of relative!. Hello, cousin and feel free to stop by for the feast. We'll make room. |
Note: Miss
me? I have spent the last two days
toiling over a new post I think you will find of interest. And I’m not quite finished. Tune into this channel on Friday for the results. In the meantime we have a holiday here in the
Land of the Semi-free and Home of the Fearful…
I have posted my
Murfin’s
Thanksgiving Rules before, but on Thanksgiving itself when everyone is
too busy with preparations, entertaining, dinner, and cleaning up to read
them. I have been scolded for this. “Damn it, Murfin! Why didn’t you post this when it would have
been of use! I didn’t read it until 10
pm after the last guest was gone, last dishes washed, and the gravy stain
scrubbed from the carpet.”
Good point. So here it is today, in plenty of time to
share with your guests—or your hosts.
This list of rules is particularly apt for those of us who do not live
in House
Beautiful, Pinterest posts, or
Martha Stewart fantasies. It’s for those of us with cramped space, short time, and real
families of blood or choice that don’t resemble that Norman Rockwell cover or behave at all times with perfect reverent decorum. In other words, most of the folks I know.
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| If you spend your Thanksgiving like this, you are excused. And blessings on your head. |
1. If
you spend the day in a homeless shelter,
soup kitchen, jail, hospital, nursing home, or even on the street blatantly
and illegally feeding the hungry, read no more. Your sins
have been erased and forgotten and
you win a gold star in the middle of your forehead.
2. Sleep in a little. No matter
how much there is to do, you will need
your rest. Strong coffee with
at least the pre-show for the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade is OK.
3. It’s alright to come early and spend the day—AS LONG AS THOSE NOT ACTUALLY COOKING OR
HELPING BY REQUEST STAY THE HELL OUT OF THE KITCHEN.
4. If
you are coming, bring something, anything to add to the feast and festivities
unless you are explicitly warned against
if by the occasional fussy perfect
Hosts and Hostesses. It does not have to be homemade, expensive, or complicated. Just not poisonous.
5. If
you are not cooking, help with the set
up. Not every home has a state
dining room, plenty of matching
chairs, and infinite table leaves. Be prepared to move furniture aside, scour the house for any chair that will not collapse, including the folding chairs rusting in the garage.
Try to make sure there are plates,
bowls, glasses, and flatware at
every seat. They do not have to match. In a
pinch Ronald McDonald plates will suffice. Be prepared
to ferry food from the kitchen as directed.
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| As long as everyone gets to eat, it doesn't mater if your plates, flatwear, or chairs match or that you hauled the folding tables up from the basement. Guests can help assemble a makeshift dining room. |
6. Try
to seat the children at the table.
If this is not possible, do not ask teenagers to sit at the kids’
table. They will know you just want them to baby sit and hate you so much that you may later not
want to be alone with them near the plug in your nursing home.
7. Speaking
of children, if any are present at least one will smash an heirloom platter,
spill a two litter of Coke on the kitchen floor and everyone’s feet
will be sticky the rest of the day, or pour gravy on the cat. Smile
sweetly. This will become a beloved
family story, and will embarrass the miscreant for decades to come.
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| Many of us gather with families of choice, not of blood like these urban hipsters and their friends. The same rules apply. |
8. It
is alright for some folks to watch some football when
dinner is not on the table or family social time is not in force as long as men
don’t hog the couches and beer and women are not made
galley slaves and serving wenches.
9. When dinner is
finally ready, firmly demand that
all electronics be put away. This will cause shrieks and wails of protest, some of it from actual teenagers, the rest from relatives who realize you do not
want them posting the meal live on Twitter. There will be sulking. Almost everyone
will get over it. Then tell some of the men that means turning
of the football game as well.
10. Saying
grace is fine. If you are a host, take a look around
your table and if you are not completely
sure that everyone there shares your
exact and passionate religious convictions, try to make the
prayer as inclusive as possible. Don’t ask for salvation of lost souls. No adding political diatribes in the guise of prayer—right or left. If you are a guest and hear a prayer that does not conform to your preferences unless a thumb has been stuck directly in your eye, smile and ignore it. Chances are that no matter how doltish the person praying meant well.
11. This
is not the occasion to go to war
over food choices. Let what you won’t/can’t eat pass by. Carnivores
do not ridicule the vegetarians—and
hosts make sure they have something to
eat. Vegetarians, vegans, and Ethical eaters spare everyone your diatribes. You knew what you were in for when you agreed to come.
12. There
almost surely will be at least one dramatic,
cathartic moment at the table when old
resentments are laid bare and skeletons come tumbling out of the closet. A few tears,
even a little screaming and a dramatic stomping
away from the table clear the air
like a thunderstorm on the prairie. Afterwards if there is love and a dollop of
understanding, the expectant tension broken, things feel better. Pass the pies.
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| Post-Thanksgiving dish stacking at the Murfin mansion--third load |
13. After
dinner the COOKS ARE EXEMPT FROM
CLEAN-UP AND DISH WASHING!!!! There
are no guests at Thanksgiving.
Everyone is literal, figurative, or honorary family. Roll up your sleeves and pitch in. With a group
effort, and plenty of take home
containers for leftovers, it
doesn’t take long.
14. Don’t everybody scatter the second the pie is put away. Deal the cards on the cleared table,
play charades or parlor games. If there is a piano or guitar,
start the singing. Share scrapbooks. Break
out your best lies.
15.
After a while it is alright to surrender
to lethargy, sprawl listlessly
on sofas and easy chairs, go gape mouthed
and stupid. Even snore
a little. There must be some sappy old movie on to pretend to watch.
16. And the most important rule of all—DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT GOING SHOPPING! If you do, I will hunt you down and hurt you.
A
few years ago I found myself asked to
say grace at a typical extended
family Thanksgiving. Around the
table were Catholics ardent and lapsed, liberal Protestants, Jews (mostly secular), a practicing Buddhist, and unchurched secularists. And I, of course, was a Unitarian Universalist with Humanist leanings. To be inclusive, to whom should I address
a prayer? What deity, if any, should I invoke? Should
I lead with a Chinese menu of options—pick a god from column A and a spirit from
column B?
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| Thanksgiving Prayers should be about gratitude and love, not preaching, proselytizing, politics, or finger pointing. Swallow hard. You can manage it.... |
A Thanksgiving Prayer for Those Who Don’t Pray
Thanks for the hands.
All of them.
That dug
and scratched,
reaped and
loaded,
milled and
butchered,
baked and
cooked,
served and
scrubbed.
The cracked,
the
bleeding,
the
blistered hands.
The hands that
hewed and smelted,
sawed and
hammered,
wove and
sewed,
put
together and took apart.
The calloused,
the greasy,
the
grimy hands.
The hands that
wrote and
painted,
plucked and
keyed
carved and
created.
The graceful,
the supple,
the
nimble hands.
The hands that
caressed
and fondled,
stroked and
petted,
held and
are held,
grasped and
gave,
played and
prayed.
The warm,
the soft,
the
forgiving hands.
And today bless even the hands that
shoved and
scourged,
slapped and
smote,
bound and
chained us.
The harsh,
the
hateful,
the
heavy hands.
Today they cannot still our hands
from their
pleasure and their duty.
The void of anger they create,
our hands
fill with love.
The gentle,
the
clasping,
the
reaching hands.
—Patrick Murfin
Thank you, Patrick!
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