Both celebrations involve large family gatherings and I often wonder how they can work up enthusiasm year after year, after year (you get the idea).
In my family of origin, funerals were the large family gatherings we attended. No reunions. No Christmas dinners. No bridal/baby showers. No nothing.
There may have been weddings, but I might have been too young to remember anything that occurred. When you are born as far down the line as I was, you tend to miss out on a few things.
But those funerals were something else.
The adult women were usually without spouses because their significant others were all at a nearby watering hole (aka bar) getting tipsy, chatty and extraordinarily chummy.
Drunks in three-piece suits. Charming. Not.
By the time the service ended and the procession moved to the graveside on the family plot, there would already be cliques who ‘had beef’ with various portions of the proceedings – from the way the corpse was dressed or had their makeup applied, to the pitch of the country cousin’s solo, to the delinquent offspring whose hollering disrupted the programme.
Distribution of food at the end of these events presented abundant fodder for strife and, with all the animated chatter that occurred during the serving, I was certain there were unwelcome droplets in those meals.
I invariably settled for a bottle of soda and waited my turn to be carted home.
It may be that I am more introverted than the average bear, but —
Food and relatives in abundance.
Hand me a book. I will be under the nearest mango tree if you need me.
I tip my hat to those North Americans who entertain large crowds on Thanksgiving Day. I admire your tenacity and tolerance and pray for you and yours God richest blessings.