top three

WORST THANKSGIVINGS EVER

1. Cody, Wyoming (circa 1993?).
My dad was a pastor at a small, struggling, Christian church in Cody. We lived in the parsonage on the church property - which was a yellow and orange painted double-wide trailer. We had been at the church for nearly 6 months and none of us had really connectd with anyone there. It was too far to drive to California for the holiday's, and no one in the church bothered to ask us if we had plans. So we attempted thanksgiving dinner in the trailer. I don't remember many details -- just that my mom was horribly depressed, I helped cook the sad little meal, and that we almost killed our cat by throwing her outside during a raging blizzard. It was the lonliest and quietest thanksgiving we ever had. And we spend most of the evening trying to revive the cat we almost killed. The cat lived, thankfully. But it was still a horrid holiday.

2. Quincy, CA (circa 1992?)
I believe this was the year my family were in YWAM in Chico, CA. We went to my grandparent's place in Quincy, CA, for the big thanksgiving meal before we took off for our 2 month mission trip to Mexico. The day of Thanksgiving went off without a hitch - everything was perfect. It was the day after that everything went sour. First of all, my granparents house was on a septic system. And, while we were there, the septic system decided to break. The repairmant wouldn't be available until Monday (this was Friday), which meant that we had no running water for 2.5 days. In the meantime, I contracted the stomach flu. I specifically recall the feeling of myself getting ready to vomit - so I yelled to my aunt diana who grabbed a gallon sized ziploc bag and tried to contain the mess that ensued. Needless to say, I did not quite make it all in the bag. and, I had no way to clean up. So, we loaded up and went to Perko's Koffee Kup (purposeful misspelling in restaurants is a crime) to brush our teeth and freshen up. It just seemed like the worst possible combination of elements. No running water, the stomach flu, and a crappy coffeehouse in a teeny little mountain town. I still hate the Perko's chain to this day. And, fo no other reason than it reminds me of that fateful weekend.

3. Idaho Falls, ID (2001)
This was a monumental thanksgiving for the Strannigan family. We packed up the car (My parents were living in Central Oregon, I was living just outside of Portland) and headed out to Idaho Falls to the Manginelli's house. Phil was my boyfriend, and we were quite serious. Serious enough to bring our families together for Thanksgiving, anyway. Phil and my sister, Danielle, were at YWAM in Montana together - so they were able to meet us in Idaho for Thanksgiving. They both were leaving on outreach a few days after Thanksgiving, so this was the last family gathering either of them would have for a while. The whole thing seemed to work out perfectly - Idaho Falls was the middle ground between Oregon and Montana - we were all able to be together before Danielle and Phil left for the mission field. There was just one problem: Phil and I had come to a standstill in our relationship. A week prior to thanksgiving, I had found out a few imporant things about him and I confronted him on it. I told him that we needed to talk thanksgiving. I was delustional and expected him to change his wiley ways, tell me he loved me, sweep me off my feet - and then I'd wait for him to return from Thailand and we'd get married and all that jazz. Well, it didn't exactly go like that. Phil avoided me the whole weekend. He left me with the fam while he went out to breakfast with various hometown friends he needed to 'spend time with' before he left. He had a going away party and talked with everyone but me. And, finally, at the last possible second, he took me to Perkins family restaurant to break the news to me: The Lord was calling him in a different direction. He had to go be in Thailand without any distractions, and that meant breaking up with me. We sat in his car and cried and said that we wished things could be different. Then we went back to his house and he cooked me cinnamon rolls and we watched The Simpsons and prayed that the morning wouldn't come. But the morning came, and we said our goodbyes. I got in the family minivan, went straight to the backseat, and cried the whole way home. There was a blizzard on the way home, which extended the trip by at least 3 hours. Even without the blizzard, I think it would be safe to say that it was the longest car ride of my life. And, that, I think, goes down in history as being the worst thanksgiving ever.