We all have our stories and memories of Thanksgiving - embraced by our sometimes quirky and colorful family and friends. We just had to share one such story with you on this Thanksgiving Day. You’ll find it to be vibrant in it’s telling of one such family and the joy, laughter and memories created in years past…
Uncle Harold
As the Thanksgiving Holiday approached I found myself thinking of my Uncle Harold. My Uncle Harold was the center piece of each and every family Thanksgiving dinner for twenty five years. There was one simple reason for this family legacy. Uncle Harold had the ability to render an entire group of heathens quiet and reverent for two minutes by virtue of his being the only family member that could do a good Thanksgiving rendition of “Grace.” He wasn’t just good; he was marvelous and his prayers were full of style and flowing drama. Sometimes they went on for more than the two allotted minutes and the gravy got cold. And then there was the year, 1981 I think it was, where he wouldn’t stop and mold started growing on the mashed potatoes, but during those times Uncle Harold was really in spirit and you didn’t want to mess with spirit, at least not anything you couldn’t drink. With Harold anchoring grace it was as if Moses himself had stopped by to give a helping hand or in this case a helping prayer.
Thanksgiving after Thanksgiving Uncle Harold literally Kicked “Grace” through the family goal posts (The Lions and Packers being respectfully turned off) and thus properly blessed and civilized we could get on with the eating and drinking, primarily the drinking.
Where Michael Jordan was the face of pro basketball, Brett Farve the face of pro football and Barry Bonds the face of pro baseball, Uncle Harold was the face of “Professional Grace” throughout my life. As a young adult and living far away from home I sometimes had to travel more than a thousand miles to get there for Thanksgiving, but the thought of Uncle Harold giving grace, those two magical minutes or “More” and wondering whether you might be featured, “Lord, bless Bill and be with him on his long journey home,” always sustained me somewhere just outside of Grand Island, Nebraska. Being featured in Uncle Harold’s Thanksgiving recitation of grace created another, smaller family industry, the industry of the wager. There were always three or four side bets as to who was going to be featured that year in the prayer. I usually had a better than fifty percent chance because of the sacrifice of distance traveled and besides, I hadn’t been around to piss Uncle Harold off. I usually wagered ten bucks on myself and more often than not collected some sizable gas money.
Where Uncle Harold acquired this unique ability is somewhat of a mystery. He owned a small Roller Mill company and was pretty wealthy and married to my Dad’s sister Mae. I mean if you own a Corn Roller Mill company in Iowa you “ARE” somebody! They were church going people Harold and Mae and he held church going titles like “Elder” and such. Their three kids grew up to be fine adults and the lone boy John became a missionary and he’s currently teaching religion and sanitation somewhere in South America. Despite all this, there was a dark side to Uncle Harold.
Uncle Harold might have been the meanest most demanding customer a restaurant ever entertained. I was especially sensitive to this because I was a big shot in the restaurant industry at the time and was appalled one day to watch the Michael Jordan of “Grace” reduce a poor innocent waitress into a tearful stuttering heap. I sometimes felt like Uncle Harold might have made a good slave owner in the Deep South. I could see him giving the lead slave Tobias a few instructions just before gathering the family in the wagon and heading off to Sunday church.
There was also the fact that Uncle Harold was an alcoholic and maybe his ability to give the perfect prayer came from some facet of speaking in tongues, albeit a well lubricated tongue. There was also the time I watched Uncle Harold jump off the roof of his house and break his leg. Somehow that just didn’t fit one who could take a group of heathens and turn them into pious, grateful, God fearing folk with a simple two minute prayer right before Thanksgiving dinner. Still, all in all Uncle Harold held every member of the family in the palm of his hand each and every year when the call went out to gather for prayer.
Generally my Mother and then in later years my sister or cousin would give the call to the table. “Hey everybody! It’s time to eat dinner! Uncle Harold would you say grace?” The last part was totally unnecessary because even my little three year old niece knew who the King of Grace was and it was after all, what I had driven all those miles for. So with everybody putting down their glasses of beer, homemade schnapps, homemade wine, wine in a box, shots of whiskey, and seven and seven’s and with my youngest brother Steve outside puking in the ditch somewhere, Uncle Harold, hands clasped in front of him, would sidle up to the table with eyes closed in preparation for prayer.
Of course at that very moment my cousin’s husband Larry would be in the middle of slurring another dirty joke to my cousin Dave but fortunately Uncle Harold always started grace with the famous “Clearing of the throat” sound and that silenced everything and everybody. Outside the cows and chickens stood quietly. Steve would rollover on his side in the ditch, wipe his face off out of respect and Larry would catch himself in mid punch line and lower his head. Uncle Harold thus seizing the moment would begin.
There’d be one more clearing of the throat, probably because these magical words required a clear and firm voice, especially considering the audience. “Aahhrruummpphh, aaahhhrrruuummmpphh, aarruummpphh” For God’s sake put it in gear.
“Dear Heavenly Father we ask that you bless this food before us this day.” I always liked that first sentence. When you’re hungry there’s nothing better than mashed potatoes, turkey and those little snow peas and knowing they have been properly blessed. I would literally start drooling at this point.
“And Lord, bless each and every one of the assembled here today. Bless their families and be with Bill on his long journey back to Utah.” SCORE! Boy did I like getting top billing in Uncle Harold’s prayers! I started adding up my take, ten, fifteen, twenty. Out of the corner of my eye I could see my brother in law mouth the words Damn!
“Lord bless those that are away from their families on this day and be with those that have lost loved ones this past year.” God, what style he had. He was the “Mozart of Grace” I swear.
“Be with each of us this special day and help us remember the many blessings that thou hast bestowed upon us!” That part of grace usually followed Uncle Harold’s having had to have listened to a couple of family members bitching about the President and his handling of current political affairs, a man I might add that Uncle Harold had voted for. It was tough being a Republican in a Socialist State like Iowa.
“We ask you Lord to bless the marriage of Carla and Gilbert.” Carla and Gilbert! Who in the hell is Carla and Gilbert? I did a quick review of the family and there wasn’t a Carla and Gilbert as far as I could tell. I snuck a peek and didn’t see anybody that could be mistaken for a Carla or Gilbert and there were plenty of looks my way as if maybe I knew who he was referring to. Oh, well, even the great ones slip up once in a while.
“We bless and rejoice in the knowing that you sent your son Jesus here so that we may be saved.” At this point it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Nobody, I mean nobody wanted to be caught glancing around, fidgeting or snickering at this juncture of grace lest ye be struck down by a bolt of lightning with Uncle Harold shouting, “Good! He deserved it!” Then there would be the dramatic five second pause before Uncle Harold said,
“We ask these blessings in thy name, Amen.” Everybody would raise their heads, smile and thank Uncle Harold. Then with someone going outside to pee and fetch my brother Steve the scrum to eat would begin.
Though I was hungry, I was always just a little sad and depressed at this time because Uncle Harold went back to being the real Uncle Harold and that quiet couple of minutes had now become a scene of utter chaos and destruction as the heathens fought over drum sticks and macadamia nut casserole. I knew that someday the two minutes or more with Uncle Harold would be but a fond memory and right now, today, I had at least three hundred and sixty five more days to wait before this scene would play out again. Still, all in all, it was good to be with family, the food and drink was truly a blessing and my brother Steve had stopped puking and was now quietly asleep in the basement. Another wonderful Thanksgiving with the Kenny’s, Mohr’s, Britt’s, and Weber’s was well under way and if you were related to them, you might as well suck it up and enjoy yourself. Besides, I knew that I had once again witnessed the master of Thanksgiving grace and I was filled with gratitude on this special day.
Later as we helped carry Uncle Harold to his car, we knew he was in good hands because Aunt Mae was always the one that drove home after dinner. After he had passed away a couple of members of the family had even taken their turns at saying grace and filling Uncle Harold’s shoes, but nobody came close and my brother Gary was actually booed one year which caused me to worry about whether your food could be blessed when people were booing the giver of grace. But after someone had again fetched Brother Steve from outside, (this time he was located in the barn) I was happy to discover the food tasted just fine. We finally decided to forget grace what with Uncle Harold being gone and with the understanding that we were all heathens anyway. Yes, it’s always this time of year I think of my Uncle Harold and maybe, just maybe, if we’re all real quiet this year right before dinner and imagine hard enough and we all click our heels together just like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, we’ll hear him clear his throat one more time. I sure hope so and I hope I’m featured. I’m betting on it!