A MICKEY D’s THANKSGIVING.
Slice of My Wife’s Life #1
For my wife’s funeral, I wrote twelve little stories about our life together, and decided to post them here on Substack too. A few people told me they enjoyed these slice-of-life vignettes as much as my waxing philosophically about grief, so I figured I’d keep writing them now and then. Plus, it’ll be something my girls can come back to read someday, too.
My wife, Judy, hated entertaining. Hated it with a capital, underlined, bolded H.
She’d spend days obsessing over whether we had enough food and drinks. She was horrified by the idea of other people’s dirty socks on our floors. And after everyone left, she would sanitize the bathroom as if she were preparing for a health inspection.
For her, entertaining = exhausting.
But when we finally got a house, I really wanted to host Thanksgiving. So for four years, she humored me. Even though she knew it meant I’d probably get a little too tipsy and accidentally squirt the bottom of the oven with the turkey baster— another damn thing to clean!
After four years, my wife’s humor finally ran out. Even though our friends were asking if we were hosting Thanksgiving this year, she said, “No. We’re going away for the weekend.”
So we rented a cabin in Big Bear, a small mountain town near Los Angeles. Because of my work schedule, we didn’t drive up until Thanksgiving Day. The girls, thirteen at the time, kept asking if we were still going to have a “real” Thanksgiving dinner.
I said we wouldn’t have time to cook, but I was sure we’d find a place serving turkey. I mean, in L.A., plenty of restaurants stay open. How different could it be?
Turns out very different.
After settling into the cabin, we drove around looking for a restaurant. Everything was closed. Everything. Apparently, Big Bear locals don’t operate like us heathens back in Los Angeles.
After an hour of driving up and down the main road, our patience shot, our stomachs growling, we ended up at the only place still open:
McDonald’s.
We brought the food back to the cabin. The girls and I were a little disappointed, but Judy? She was in heaven. Happily eating her Filet-O-Fish, completely content.
No fuss. No muss. No grease-stained turkey oven.
She kept the mood light, brought the girls’ favorite treats, and we had a great night. The whole weekend was a blast. And that Thanksgiving— the one with the McDonald’s feast— is now one of our most memorable.
Hope you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving.
Don’t forget to cherish all your loved ones.