The family Thanksgiving dinner took place at my cousin’s house this year. Thankfully, it was a low key affair. The non-crazies out numbered the crazies this go round which made for a
short nice, uneventful Thanksgiving. The calm nature of the day allowed me to solve a mystery of sorts.
My cousin’s wife Cheryl has made a Thanksgiving green bean casserole for as long as I can remember. I’ve never been a fan of green bean casserole. I think it’s the cream of mushroom soup which has a very distinct flavor and kind of takes over anything that it’s in. Anyhow, I’ve always quietly passed it over when making my plate without making mention of it (and without anyone else making mention of it either).
Starting about 3 years ago though, each time we met for Thanksgiving, Cheryl started pointing out to me, personally, that she didn’t forget to make the green bean casserole. I didn’t understand her need to notify me of her meal contribution, but I often don’t understand my family so I always just nodded with a fake smile, said something like, “Oh, ok,” and left it at that. But then felt guilty passing over the casserole so spooned a small amount onto my plate to choke down. Last week’s holiday was no exception to this new green bean casserole reminder/guilt eating.
As dinner wound down we reminisced about Thanksgivings past, telling funny stories. Stories were shared about dropping platters of various parts of the Thanksgiving meal (surprisingly there have been many) and Cheryl shared one…About three years ago, while taking the green bean casserole out of the oven, she dropped it. After getting it all cleaned up, the meal was served – sans green beans of course. While we all ate, everyone oooh-ed and ahh-ed about the meal as we usually do. Then I
shockingly chimed in with something sarcastic like, “It’s just too bad there isn’t any green bean casserole.” Since then, Cheryl has made it her mission to make sure this dish was served because I LIKED IT SO MUCH.
Mystery solved! And for my penitence I have to eat a spoonful of that darn casserole for the rest of my life.