A Thanksgiving skirmish

The cousins were banished to the backyard while the women of the house prepared the annual Thanksgiving feast fit for a king.

It was as if the incarcerated inmates were getting their hour of exercise in the prison yard. The only thing missing was the armed guards on the wall.

Carmen and Silver took turns pushing me on the swing set while Kelly and GiGi were riding the teeter totter.

Rhett, Mikey and John were playing lawn darts several feet away with one of the threesome pulling double duty to make the teams even.

It was Thanksgiving Day, November 25, 1971. We were in Kenmore, N.Y. celebrating the festive holiday at my Grandma and Pappy Price’s house on Palmer Avenue.

When the time was right, the youngsters banishment came to an end as we were called into the house to ready ourselves for the great feast.

Twenty-nine family members, including 16 adults and 13 children, all gathered in the dining room as my grandparent’s minister son gave the blessing for the bountiful banquet.

After the short prayer, the adults helped the youngsters with their plates before heading back to the kitchen; so everyone could enjoy their meal in peace.

After all the cousins traipsed back into the kitchen with their plates filled with turkey, mashed potatoes and stuffing as well as an assortment of other delicious dishes, the youngsters began to devour the Thanksgiving feast.

The kids couldn’t wait to partake of the decadent desserts spread out on the buffet table in the dining room. However, it didn’t take long for the table conversation to get heated; and dessert was the last thing on our mind.

Instead, we feared the wrath of Grandma Price with her flaming red hair.

It all began when GiGi complained about her brother’s table manners.

“Rhett, you need to learn to eat with your mouth closed,” exclaimed the short black-haired girl swirling her fork in his direction from two seats away.

“At least I know how to enjoy my food,” the nine-year-old boy shout back sticking out his tongue with food falling to his plate.

“Both of you better knock it off right now,” demanded Carmen as she attempted to intervene in the escalating development.

The pair of siblings ignored their oldest sister and continued hurling insults at one another.

“You better shut your trap, you little troll,” threatened the 11-year-old, who nearly stepped on her cousin Kelly to get at her brother. “Before I shut it for you.”

“I’d like to see you try,” shot back the brown-haired lad pushing his sister’s buttons. “Four eyes.”

GiGi’s eyes grew as big as saucers behind her spectacles with steam coming from her ears and fire from her mouth.

The gloves came off as the situation spiraled into a full-fledged brawl when a buttered biscuit flew across the table hitting Rhett square on the forehead.

“That’s enough,” asserted Silver through clenched teeth as she stood throwing her napkin on the table. “You’re going to get us all in trouble.”

Disregarding the protests of their other sister, the pair turned up the heat on their quarrel.

The brown-haired lad returned fire by throwing the dinner roll back in his sister’s direction. It landed in her gravy mashed potatoes splashing it on her glasses and face.

The next thing that transpired sent shock waves around the kitchen table that dropped everyone’s jaw.

GiGi scooped up the mashed potatoes smothered in gravy on her plate and threw across the table toward her brother.

The blob of white fluffy vegetable mixed with the brown gooey substance flew right by her sibling and landed on me, splattering it all over my face and hair.

Uncle Ron rushed out into the kitchen when he saw food flying through the air. Looking at the leader of the bunch, he whispered, “Are you trying to get into trouble?”

“Don’t look at me,” deflected Carmen as she raised her hands into the air. “I had nothing to do with this.”

“And just how did Mark get mashed potatoes and gravy in his hair?” he added raising his voice.

Uncle Carl, who knew something was amiss from the raised voices coming from the kitchen, hurried into the room before his mother caught wind of the situation.

“What the heck is going on out here?” demanded the 21-year-old newlywed as he flew into the room like the house was on fire taking control of the sad state of affairs.

The married uncle scooped me up and purposely threw the my plate on the floor along with the stool. Then he proceeded to put his free hand in Rhett’s food smearing it on the nine-year-old’s face.

As Rhett protested his elder’s actions, the other cousins all dropped their jaws in awe of what they just witnessed not believing their eyes.

Grandma Price came out when her blond-haired son was cleaning mashed potatoes out of my hair.

“What is going on out here?” questioned the red-haired grandmother as she threw up her hands. “And why is there food all over the end of the table?”

“Mark slipped off the step stool dropping his plate onto the floor,” explained the 21-year-old setting his little nephew on the counter. “He knocked over the stool as he fell into Rhett.”

“Your oldest grandson had quick reflexes and caught his cousin before he got hurt; but not before getting slimed with food, himself,” he added.

Grandma laughed at the nine-year-old wiping food from his face. The other cousins, astounded by what just happened, joined in with nervous laughter.

Uncle Ron finished cleaning the mess off the floor as his brother helped me off the counter patting my backside while he sent me back into the dining room for some more food.

The blond-haired uncle motioned for his nephew, who took one for the team, to come over to the sink and get cleaned up.

“You two better wise up if you know what’s good for you,” the blond-haired fellow threatened the two culprits before the two brother rejoined the adults in the dining room. “Next time you might not be so lucky.”

With smiles on their little faces, the cousins had a new admiration for their two youngest uncles, who spared them a severe tongue lashing or worse from Grandma Price.