Note—This year the annual Clan Thanksgiving gathering will not be held at the
Murfin Estate in Crystal Lake, but at my church, the Tree of Life UU
Congregation in McHenry. There are just
getting to be too many of us to squeeze into the small front room even with
furniture piled in bedrooms. But many if
not most of Murfin’s Thanksgiving Rules will still be in force.
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.
Murfin’s
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.
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 babysit 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.
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 Instagram. 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 the meat abstainers 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.
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.
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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?
This is what I came up with. You may find it useful—or not. Feel free to use it if it fits. Or adapt it to your needs and circumstances. No pressure.
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
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