One of the best things about school vacations was no teachers; however, our mother of course did not feel that way. School vacations meant the trouble of having her children around, interrupting her Scrabble marathons and her drinking time.
But, crazy like a fox and always more interested in helping people she barely knew rather than her own friends and family, she found a “coping method.” She would invite any older, unmarried teacher to our home for Thanksgiving dinner.
As always with her “cooking”, the dinner included such delicacies as:
- stuffing that had been left sitting out for a few days after being prepared, thus giving it a sickly greenish hue on the top
- fried apples that looked more like baked liver and tasted like vinegar
- and what we called “turkey tartar”, because Mother had neglected to thaw it properly or allow for enough cooking time
Thankfully, none of my teachers could attend; but more than once my sister’s teachers managed to show up for the holiday meal.
Remarkably, I cannot remember much of these days. I would ask to be excused as soon as I had swallowed my last bite, and Lindy and I would pray these women would get home before they got sick from the meal. None of them ever returned for a second Thanksgiving meal.