Someone Pass the Search Warrant

Thanksgiving in my family feels a lot like a circus freakshow you don't have to pay admission to. You won't find a family with more felonies, divorces, children conceived as a result of a, "Well, I don't know I was too drunk to remember" situation, or with more working knowledge of schedule 1 drugs than my family. So, picking THAT relative is difficult in my clan. However, there are certain mechanisms in place that limit the number of people who can attend one of my family's Thanksgivings. These mechanisms include:

1. Incarceration: More than one chair at my family's turkey day table is empty due to an aunt, uncle, or cousin receiving a most insistent invitation to spend the holiday at one of California's various correctional facilities.

2. House Arrest: It's not unusual for parole or probation to generously give one or more of my family members a fashionable, court ordered, ankle bracelet. Unfortunately, though the bracelets are an elegant and functional black appropriate for any occasion, my grandma's house was usually just outside of the bracelet's programed range.

3. Restraining Order: Some of my family members just seem to viciously rub each other the wrong way. Of course the friction caused by this angry rubbing needs to be addressed by the appropriate safety measures. The safety tool of choice in these too frequent occurrences in my family is a nice, cool, restraining order. Without the extinguishing effect of a well written restraining order, the friction between my family members could spark a fire which within minutes would set a good portion of Santa Clara, California ablaze.

4. Inner Family Debt: One family member owes another family member money (where the loaned money originated from is best left a mystery). As one can imagine, a confrontation with the holder of the debt would be both uncomfortable and potentially hazardous to the health of the poor schmuck who owes the money. The absence of the deadbeat during Thanksgiving dinner is questioned only once. When the word, "Money" is said in reply, the situation becomes completely understood.

Okay, so with the potential Thanksgiving guest list whittled down courtesy of California's penal system and familial fiscal irresponsibility, we can now answer the challenge question. The answer is simple. It could be anyone. There isn't a member of my family who isn't capable of taking a chainsaw-like attitude to the current limbs of my family tree thus pruning any possible joy away from the gathering. So, where does the ill will come from? That to deserves some analysis which I have provided:

A) History Raises its Ugly Head: Now, it's no secret that the majority of my aunts, uncles and cousins have cooked their brains to a charred well-done with recreational pharmaceuticals. As a result, most of my family probably couldn't tell you where their own nipples are standing naked in a snow storm. However, the one area of the brain that remains completely functional in spite of being soaked in various narcotics is the center of the brain that remembers old grudges. This amazing recall gets even more laser focused when a little alcohol gets involved. So, at some point, a slightly tipsy aunt will remind a sister that she fucked sister's high school boyfriend in the Wilcox High School's shower room. The resulting explosion and the aftershocks that follow can often be felt as far as Canada.

Side note: It is well known by the children of the two combating sisters described above that their mom's names and phone numbers are prominently displayed on all of the inside stall doors in every boys bathroom at Wilcox High School to this very day. Oh, we don't consider our mom's as former high school sluts, instead, we think of them as legends in their own time.

B) The Social Lubricant and Opportunity to Learn Your Miranda Rights: Now, there is a lot that can be said about age and experience. However, there is also a lot to be said about still having a functional liver and alcoholism on training wheels! Now, mom and Aunt Jennifer may be ready to start throwing right hooks at each other (unbeknownst to them the high school boyfriend at the center of their argument was also fucking their eldest sister), but the younger generation attending the Thanksgiving celebration wants in on the fighting too. So, cousins happily get hammered (one abstaining so he is sober enough to bail mom and Aunt Jennifer out of Jail later) before grandma breaks out the pumpkin and cherry pie.

Realizing this is going to be another ONE OF THOSE THANKSGIVINGS, grandma wonders if she should release a guest list to the Santa Clara Police Department prior to dinner next year. It would allow them to cross reference guest names with assigned parole and probation officers and also connect any outstanding warrants to the guest before Thanksgiving arrives. After all, they're always so polite when they put one of her children or grandchildren in the back of the cruiser. It'll make their jobs so much easier, besides, it's Thanksgiving and the men and women and blue are away from their families so that they can tase, cuff, and stuff one of her family into a police car.

C) AA Chips and Dip: Now, I must give a shout out to those relatives who've achieved sobriety in my family. They've proven that clean and sober can be done. Even more impressive is that they can also walk away from one of our family gatherings and remain sober, which is a FUCKING MIRACLE! Oh, they can cause trouble too, but it's usually because someone brings up an old beef or a story from the glory days when they were still using to see if they can be tempted to slip. Some will just be dicks and drink in front of them. So if the AA crowd at grandma's Thanksgiving throw down you can guarantee it's justified. Coincidentally, this is the group I used to hang out with at Thanksgiving. I knew my wallet wouldn't come up missing there and my girlfriend wouldn't be offered a quicky by one of my cousins in the guest bedroom.

So, to answer the question in simple terms, Thanksgiving at my grandma's was a lot like trying to navigate a mine field, blindfolded, on a pogo stick. Any one of us could make the meal slow torture because, well to be honest, we were all a bunch of fuck ups. Some were just better at hiding it.

Writers Note:

The grandma noted here was my favorite person on the planet. She raised 4 children by herself after her husband committed suicide (she was pregnant with child number 4 when he died). The issues her kids had/have can be blamed on genetics and the fact that she worked 3 jobs to keep a roof over their heads. By the way, she obtained a mortgage and bought that house by herself in a time when women didn't regularly buy houses without a husband.

Grandma's biggest regret was the road her children and grandchildren would choose to follow, but it's hard to catch your kids doing drugs/playing back seat Barbie when you're working and never home. She also raised 1 grandchild because his mom loved heroin more than him. Finally, she contracted a disease that a grandma had no business catching while working in house keeping at a hospital. A misplaced needle in a trash bag changed out lives forever. Finally, when she was given the diagnosis and a prognosis of 2 years to live she told the doctor, "You're not God. We'll just see." That was 1994. She survived to see my children born 2006, 2009, and 2011 saying fuck all to that doctor's 2 year estimate. Sadly, she passed before my littlest guy came into the world, but I know wherever she is she's laughing at his silly dances and his delight in saying, "BOOTY" every chance he gets.

Love you grandma. I won't be attending any family Thanksgiving dinners until it' with you again.