Another reason Thanksgiving is my favorite!

We were driving home yesterday from our restaurant dinner, and recalled for the first time in years that Thanksgiving is actually our "First Date" Anniversary.

Twenty-seven years ago, I invited a young enlisted Marine, far away from his own family, to my home for Thanksgiving dinner. He had been pestering me by phone for about 3 weeks to go out with him, and I was in a strict "no dating" phase of my life. I figured that meeting my family, up close and personal, was a good way to make him back off, while I still got to feel virtuous about providing hospitality to someone who had nowhere to go but the "chow hall" for Thanksgiving dinner.

I remember that in the afternoon, while the turkey was in the oven and I was furiously cleaning house, he called and said that he couldn't get a ride--I needed to come pick him up at the El Toro Marine Corps base. "Great," I thought, "just what I don't have time for!" Since I hadn't been in the shower yet, I tied a bandanna around my dirty hair, hopped in my van and drove out to the base to get my guest. I remember being annoyed, but also a bit pleased--surely seeing me at my most unattractive would discourage him, right?

When we got back to the house in Costa Mesa, the turkey needed to be turned. This was the year when roasting turkeys upside down was all the rage, and I was determined to try it. The big bird was in one of those blue-black oval roasting pans with the white speckles, and Bill and I argued (a portent of the rest of our lives?) about the best way to turn the turkey over without getting burned. Bill made the suggestion that perhaps putting the cover on top and simply flipping the pan over would do the trick. Neither of us counted on all the hot liquid leaking out of the unsealed gap between the two halves of the pan, scalding grease and turkey juice went all over us and the carpeted floor (another lesson: never have carpet in a kitchen), and we had our quintessential Annie Hall scene.

Things got better from then on. Bill cleaned the kitchen, I went and took a shower, and my parents and grandparents arrived. Another serviceman, a friend of my brother's who was stationed at Norton AFB (so Bill wouldn't read anything into my inviting just him), and my roommate Jennifer rounded out the table.

The dynamic was amazing. My parents liked him. My grandparents liked him. I even liked him. Bill acted like he was part of the family with complete ease. Mom, Dad, and Jennifer all played the piano after dinner for entertainment and everyone had a great time. When the other guests left, Bill and I stayed up and sat in lawn chairs in front of the fireplace, swigging champagne from a bottle and talking long into the night. At about 3 in the morning, I handed him a pillow and a blanket, showed him the couch, and tottered off to bed by myself.

The next time he called and invited me to go out with him, I said yes. (Well, I had to--he had 2 unobtainable theatre tickets to Evita in LA)!

My mother remembers that going home that night, she told my dad "That's the one!" It took us many more months and several separations to figure it out, but my mom knew right then. From such a ignominious beginning, my world turned and changed.