Leave The Gun, Take The Turkey

Now place your fat, stubby child's hand on the brown construction paper and outline it. Color each finger in tones that say Fall, your reds and oranges. Draw a little beak on your thumb, cut the whole thing out (with the special green handled lefty scissors, in my case), slap it on the fridge and you're more than half way there.
Ah, Thanksgiving, the glutton's holiday. Where the only real traditions in the Geoghagan house are a familial stupor/nap after eating too much turkey....and the tension of who's pissed at who (the whys aren't as important). The only thing I can report is that this year my particular profile is low. Last year being the miserable Hell that it was, my status was on the tip of everybody's tongue. But I hear rumors and half sentences and pregnant pauses that this year there has been some trouble between my Dad and my older brother John.

Quick Geoghagan Family Tree:
Mom (Diann Geoghagan, formerly Diann Dubose, originally Diann Warder -- of course she was adopted, so I guess even that's not her original name -- anyway, it'll work for us)
Dad (Gary Geoghagan)
Amber (my little sister and the product of the two mentioned above)
John Dubose (Mom's son, my half brother, technically, although that's a term that we have never used, it's always just been brother. Jesus, John must be closing in on 40 if he's not there already)
Michael Dubose (John's son)
Susan Dubose (John's well, hell, ex wife now, I guess, or so close as to make no difference)
Little Gary Geoghagan (Dad's son, you get the picture, late 30's?)
(actually Little Gary's brood doesn't really factor into this story, so for now their names aren't important)
Chris Dubose (Mom's son, ten years older than me)
Jessica Dubose (Chris's daughter, ten years younger than me)

That should do for now. Now, Amber knows the full story but here's my sketch.

John is and has been and always will be a fuck up of the First Order. You name it: drugs, booze, social skills, jobs -- he should have been drown in a bucket when he was born. That kind of thing.

Now Mom and Dad have always had a Yours Mine Ours and Theirs kind of tension about all the kids and grandkids. Dad treats Little Gary better than John, forgives him of this and that. Dad's mean to Michael. Again, that kind of thing.

Isn't it funny how when you're a little kid you have one picture of your family. Then as you grow up, the picture shifts and distorts to the point where your childhood memories seem almost a myth. And I have a pretty mundane family, so I can't imagine what that's like in a family where real fucked up shit and secrets happen. My family has middle of the road dysfunction.

Anyway, the story revolves around John pawning a bunch of my Dad's DVDs and a DVD player and the two of them getting into a huge argument about it and long story short (too late!) my Mom is thinking about not having Thanksgiving at the house this year. She's thinking about just going over to my Uncle Lee's girlfriend's house and that being that. Now, don't get me wrong, I want to see Uncle Lee and Ladonna and Jennifer but --- You're telling me I'm driving up to Jacksonville to eat Thanksgiving dinner in some lady's house that I don't even know.

Bullshit. Complete. Total. Absolute.

So, Amber is suppose to talk some sense into Mom this week.

I'm sorry, I wish you all could see the smile on my face at the thought of that conversation.