Thanksgiving was a quieter event than usual this year. My mother hosted it, like she always does, but rather than having all of her sisters and their children this year, she kept it to just "the kids," meaning me and my stepsiblings and our children.
I made the turkey, as usual - and as usual, it was a hit. I use Alton Brown's Good Eats Roast Turkey recipe, which is absolutely the best turkey recipe ever. I even passed it along to a friend this year, and hers was a smashing success as well. She thanked me profusely for that. Always happy to help. I also made a cheesecake, which was the only one of six desserts at the dinner that had no leftovers. I think I'll be recruited to make that one again too. I didn't hear anyone even mention any of the other desserts, but everyone was saying, "Wow, the cheesecake is soooo good!"
I don't interact much with my stepsiblings. They're not really my kind of people. We had two tables set up for eating, and they all sat at one, while my mom, my kids and I all ate at the other one.
After dinner, the conversation was pretty much the same way. It was a good thing too. I overheard some of the conversation in the other room, and I had no interest whatsoever in joining it. My son was stuck in that crowd at one point, during my stepsister's rant on how she will never allow her daughter to date someone who's not white. Pooh just had to roll his eyes and groan until he was able to escape. I told him and my mom that I wished I'd been able to bring P home for the holidays one time when we were dating. Hmmm, my Jamaican boyfriend. I wonder if the stepfamily would have been able to get past the skin and hair since he was a TV star. That would have been an interesting dynamic. It would have been fine for P. I warned him about their attitude very early on in our relationship. My mother used to have it in my youth, but year of training by me have since straightened her out. By the time P and I split up, she was so supportive of us being together that she even encouraged me to hold onto hope that he might come back. She's fully reformed now.
I still remember the very first time I met my other stepsister. I was a junior in college at the time, and I'd come home for the weekend. One of the very first thing's she said to me was, "Do you like black people?" As I just sort of gaped in stunned silence, she continued, "Because in (this town), if you like black people, you're a nigger lover." That was enough for me to know that I would NEVER want to be involved with that family any more than was strictly required. I was utterly disgusted.
What I hate more than anything is knowing that they are passing those disgusting attitudes on to their children. I can only hope that at least some of them manage intelligent thought on their own, because they are certainly not getting it from their parents.
At least my children know that when they come to finding love, I will always support and encourage them. I ask only that they find a good person who treats them with respect and dignity. It does not matter to me where they are from, what color their skin is or what sex they are.
My ex-husband once told me that if he'd known I kissed a black man in college, he never would have married me. Makes me wish it had come up in conversation earlier. I would have happily avoided that whole disasterous marriage. He also asked me what I would think if my son Pooh came home and told me he was gay. I told him I'd have no problem with it. I'd still support him and love him just the same, and it would make no difference to me whatsoever. He appeared to have a moment of clarity for just one moment and looked at me and said, "You really would, wouldn't you?" Well, of course I would.