When I was young, we often celebrated Thanksgiving at Oxbow Lake, where Uncle Jack and Aunt Norma had their house. All the Weirs gathered there -- including all of my male cousins, most of whom I did not like.
Probably it was on me. With three sisters and no brothers, I simply didn't feel comfortable around other males. They were violent, profane, sexist.
Therefore I hung around the kitchen, where my aunts were preparing the big meal.
My aunts were intimidating -- tall, white-haired ladies who seemed to seldom smile and often tell me to stay away from the food area. Norma, Alice and Edna. I cannot say I ever felt that any of them loved me; it was more like they felt I was an irritation.
But if I went outside with the other boys, life was crap. These guys seemed like gangsters to me. Mean. I wanted to be sure to keep them away from my little sisters.
When dinner was finally served, I always tried to get some meat from a drumstick. That's the part of the turkey I liked best.
Uncle Bill always came late, having been at the Lions game. The Detroit Lions were and are the NFL team in Michigan. Of course I was a Lions fan. When Uncle Bill got there, the poker and the drinking began.
I hung around the card table, but never understood much of what was going on.
That's what I remember about Thanksgiving. That, and the long ride back home to Bay City on snowy evenings, my shoulders tense as my Dad got us there safely.
Then into my room at 1843 Morin Drive, painted yellow at my request. Yellow was my favorite color.
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