Song of Thanksgiving Joy and Sorrow

Everett was one of many guests attending Thanksgiving Dinner at Celeste Richard's table. This Particular feast of thanks had more of a picnic vibe.The weather was the right kind of warm,with a gentle breeze.An enormous teakwood dining room table sat among the grassy blades of the backyard,Where Sebastian and his band moved it this morning.

After the turkey was carved,Celeste and her lover,Shi - Phen ,both stood together.

'' Let's go around the table and see what everyone has been up to,'' Shi - Phen said with gusto.

'' Feel free to add what you are thankful for ,'' Celeste added with a broad smile.

Finally,after seven people had spoken,it was Everett's turn.

'' I am renting out my house and taking a road trip to the Carolinas and Possibly Cocoa beach.I need a change of scenery.Who knows? Maybe I will find my lady love out there.'' Everett should mention his daughter,Kera might be pregnant.But Everett keeps that a suprise as a present to himself.Besides shouldn't the mother - to- be break that kind of news?

Sebastian speaks next.

'' I am toying with an idea of writing a cookbook with everything from beer-can chicken to creme brulee.I plan on keeping the recipes simple so anybody can rustle up first class food the special people in their lives,'' Sebastian said, talking animatedly with his hands, like his late father always did.

''Did Sebastian tell you about his duck ala orange ? '' the drummer, a Jamaican girl piped up.

The whole table shook their heads no.Sebastian blushed thirty - eight shades of red.

The band played a gig in Pennsyvania.The grocery store closed at 8 and the nearest all night burger joint was thirty miles away. So Sebastian and the other band mates shot three ducks and cleaned them He roasted the fowl on the engine with herbs and orange marmalade procured from under the driver's seat.It was quite the culinary experience,'' she winked,flipping panels of waist length hair.

A few folks at the table smiled politely.As dinner progressed,Everett sampled this lovely cranberry concoction,baked in a crock -pot of all places.He never cared for the taste of cranberries.Whatever this was,it did not resemble the canned garbage commonly serve on the nation feast that falls on the final Thursday of November. The delectable dish smelled of cloves,citrus and possible ginger.

Everett had ventured away from the Macy's parade earlier in the day to pry the recipe out of the drummer and Sebastian.But when Everett waltzed in,Sebastian was kissing her ear and singing the chorus of Gerry Rafferty's ' right down the line' The Jamaican chick was stroking Sebastian's neon green mane,like one might pet a small dog.With the help of wax and hairspray,Sebastian's mop was splayed out atop  his skull like a broom's straw tendrils.

Everett finishes the remaining morsels of cranberries to save space for dessert.He spied Soledad Marquesa slumped in a wheelchair, a tiny stream of droll running out of still pouty lips.It is depressing to see Soledad Marquesa decaying in this fashion.She is rare bird you never wanted to imagine surrendering to the ravages of age.He remembers that book of poems  she wrote back in the sixties , seventy poems about individuals she met while hitchhiking across all fifty states.

The collection of poetry had been a great solace to him during his time fighting in Vietnam. A lady friend of a guy in his platoon had sent this little orange paperback.He remembered hearing that some governor out west had thrown a hissy fit.The crackpot purchased a hundred of Soledad's poetry books and burnt them, even tried to get her put on the Communist watch list.All because she didn't appear to be wearing a top in author picture on the back of the book.Not that you saw any cleavage:Soledad's puffy hair went past her knees back then. A handful of the poems were foul, but most of them were poignant and to the point, little slices of life.

Kept safe in the hard drive in Everett's brain there was a photo of Soledad in the mid - seventies. He can still picture her tearing through the set of ' Mermaid Country' like roadrunner , thick tresses of hair black as pitch , pulled back with a handkerchief. This was when Soledad rocked the kimono tops and O.P shorts,thong sandals occasionally covering her usually bare toes,giving orders in that thunderous voice of hers.

Back at dinner,Soledad's husband of over three decades and a nurse sporting a henna pageboy grabbed a napkin to clean up the mess on her face.To both of their suprise,Soledad yanked at the napkin with her good arm swabbing up the slobber.

''Well, what do you know? Remnants of the tigress exist,'' Everett sighs to himself.

You had  to respect a woman like that. Tiger queens were in danger of becoming extinct.The dinner course wound down.Celeste the host,excused herself to the lavatory.Seconds later, Shi - Phen also had to the facilities.

'' Imagine that, both parties having to use the commode at the same instant.Maybe their bladders are on a synchronized timer,'' Everett mused to himself.