Sunday Night With John: A Derryberry Thanksgiving

Enjoy a short story about my typical family Thanksgiving growing up as a child in the Orwell, Ohio area. Hope you have a great week and an amazing Thanksgiving, by far my favorite holiday. 

On Thanksgiving night when I was 13, the house was quiet as usual. The football game was on and Dad, Dave, Paul, and I had just woken up from our naps. Mom and Crystal were out finishing cleaning up in the kitchen. I ate all day, watched football, slept, and didn't lift a finger to help clean up.

"Hey, you guys want to play a game of cards?" my mom asked from the kitchen. Dave and I looked at Dad, who acted like he was into the game, but I don't think he could have told anyone what the score was.

"Come on guys. Let's play cards," my mom said again.

"Yes dear, we will be there in a minute," Dad responded.

Mom set the table with chips and snacks that Dave and I would end up throwing at each other. Mom, who was the most excited about playing, got a glass of diet soda and sat down with her dyed reddish, blonde hair. Even though she was just a tiny thing of 5'4", Mom always had to look the part of a lady even though no one had left the house all day. She had on jeans and a church sweater.  I can't remember a family function except maybe Christmas morning where she wasn't all done up. Crystal sat down across from Mom. Crystal had forest green eyes, black hair, and the dignified look of a college graduate and teacher. She dressed like mom in that she always tried to look nice for family functions, basically wearing the same outfit just different colors. Paul, my brother in law, found his seat next to Crystal. Paul always looked a little nervous around us, and I can't say that I blame him. Paul dressed with jeans and a collared shirt my mom got him for his birthday day. He was way over-dressed for the occasion. Dave and I stumbled in next and headed right for the food.

"Do I have to sit next to Crystal? She smells funny," my brother asked as his blonde-haired, blue-eyed football-playing body rolled through the dining room toward the pie.

"I'm not sitting by her either," I said as I came through on my brother's heels. "Have you ever smelled her farts? I'm not taking that chance," I stated.  I looked like my brother, except without muscles. We were dressed in our Thanksgiving finest; Dave had on sweat pants, no shirt, and hadn't taken a shower all day. I was dressed the same, but wearing shorts. It was the Derryberry-issued clothing for a male on a holiday. We kept trying to let Paul in on Thanksgiving Day fashion but he never took the bait. Dad joined the group as Dave piled three pieces of apple pie with whipped cream on his plate. I shoveled three pieces of pumpkin pie onto mine. Dad motioned me to get him two pieces of pumpkin pie, as he took his seat at the head of the table. Dave and I sat down at the end of the table together where we would just bother each other. Every once in a while, Dave or I would sit in Dad’s chair to see what he would do and we would always end up on the floor screaming mercy.

Dad was a big guy at 6'3"and weighing at least 250 pounds. He used to have jet-black hair but it was fading to gray, if not disappearing from the top of his head. He had one big scar running down the middle of his thick hairy chest from when the doctors used the chest spreader to open him up three years ago. He also had four tinny hole shaped scars on his stomach. They were left over from the feeding tubes inserted after the stroke. Dad had on an old pair of gray sweats, and, like Dave and I, he never wore a shirt. I would like to say my Dad created this outfit but I’m sure grandpa Derryberry wore it as well. The only thing missing from my Dad's outfit was his old style pipe he used to smoke before his health complications.

We decided to play spades. The fun always started when the game was about half over.

"Who is in first?" Mom asked.

"You are, Mom," Crystal answered.

"I know I just wanted everyone else to hear that," Mom said.

"What are the scores?" Dad asked.

"John is in last place with 34, David has 42, Paul has 43, I have 47, you have 52, and Mom has 57."

"You have to be kidding me. Mom is in first place again?" I whimpered.

"What are you complaining about, runt?  You are in last place just like in this family, but Peewee, my childhood nickname bestowed on me by my wonderful brother, has a point.  There should be a rule against bidding zero every time," my brother chimed in.

"Shut up David, you aren't far in front of me," I chirped back.

"Boys you both know I'm going to win," my Dad said with a smile.

"Honey, the way you play you'll gamble and finish last and we both know this."

"Anyone notice Paul being really quiet?" my brother asked.

"Yeah, because he is trying to go unnoticed so he can brag about beating the three of us," my sister said as Paul tried to give that innocent look. "Like I didn't know what you were up to."

"Ha ha, busted," I said as I pointed at Paul.

"What? I'm just sitting here," Paul stated as he dropped is head to hide his smirk.

Three hands later the scores were a little more separated and the order had changed. Dad did what Mom he said he would do.  Dave, Crystal, Paul and I all had decent hands, and Mom was still just bidding zero. Dad had 40, Paul had 60, Mom had 70, David 71, Crystal 75 and I had 60.

"Better watch out, Dave.  I'm getting better hands and I might not be the runt anymore," I said.

"Pee-wee, you will always be the runt of this family," Dave replied.

"David, be nicer to your brother," Mom chirped.

"Look, at least I said he could be a part of the family."

"That's true, dear; sometimes I don't even claim him as my son."

"Thanks, Dad," I stated, as my brother let out a loud single laugh. 

"You guys are terrible," Crystal said.

"Who said I wanted to be related to you guys anyway?  Don't worry, I can tell I'm adopted." I stated.

"How can you feel that, Pee-wee?" David asked.

"Because you are all so ugly and I'm so good looking."

"You are part of this family, John. You're just as dumb as your brother," Crystal stated.

"They get this from you," Mom said to Dad.

"I know, isn't it great?" Dad smiled as he made eye contact with his bantering kids.

Three more hands and the game was over. Crystal compiled the scores. It was between Mom, David and I for first and dad, Crystal, and Paul for last.

"All night, here we go, Dad had 52, Paul had 61, and I had 60," my sister stated as Paul cracked a smile.

"Seriously, Dad, why did you get beat by the new guy in the family?" Dave asked.

"Trying to make him feel welcome, unlike you two down there at the end of the table."

"Just doing what you taught us," I said.

"I'm just happy to beat Crystal," Paul stated.

"Great, now I have three people in this family always looking to beat me," Crystal said

"Come on, Crystal, tell the boys that their Mom is better than them," Mom boasted.

"They get all this banter from me?" Dad said and this time I let out the single loud laugh.

"All right here we go, Dave had 85, Mom had 90, and John 91,"Crystal stated.

"I knew it I was the best Derryberry!" I yelled.

The table was covered with pie plates, chips and dip, cups, and the vegetable and dip tray. Dad looked over at me and said "Congrats and since you're the best Derryberry you must be the best at cleaning up. Winner gets to clean up the mess." Everyone laughed and rolled out of the dinning room and moved back into the living room. I began to slowly to pick up and began chanting, "I'm the best, better than all the rest." while making eye contact with my dad, who smiled back at me. 

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!