Thanksgiving

While I’m writing I may as well use this opportunity to record the events surrounding my first big social event in the new digs, Thanksgiving weekend... The final count was ten overnight guests, eleven counting Cassie, and in order of arrival included, Lisa, Cassie, Jenn, Marcus, Tia, Mike, Dany, Chuck, Art, Doug and Sharon. Add myself and Bancroft Eric to the mix and we had an even dozen for dinner...With two exceptions, Doug and Sharon, everyone arrived throughout the day and evening on Friday. 

Doug and Sharon’s arrival on Saturday was, without doubt, the single most memorable event of the weekend. As the day, and then the evening slipped by everyone’s concern over their absence increased such that we were all quite concerned about them...

Much too our relief, at about 8:30 the faint rumble of two approaching motorcycles weaved its way up through the trees to the house. Several of us rushed down the drive to see if they needed help and to warn them that it was a hazardous trip up the drive which was covered in wet greasy leaves. Sharon opted to have Mike bring her bike up as she’d had enough riding for one day and didn’t want to tempt fate by dropping her bike part way up the drive. The sight of the two of them, when they got to the top of the hill, will remain ever imprinted on my brain. Both were sopping wet from head to toe and obviously chilled through to the bone. As happy as we were to see them, they were nothing short of elated at having arrived after a very long and arduous ride. It may have been at this point that the true meaning of Thanksgiving was most clearly acknowledged by everyone present. Doug was by far the worse off. It was all he could do to pry his hands off the controls of his bike. I think he summed up how he, and probably Sharon, felt as he emphatically insisted, over and over again, that he would not be “...repeating this fucking trip again, ever!” He also managed to communicate, through chattering teeth, that there was a bottle of whiskey in his saddle bag and that he would be most grateful if one of us would dig it out so he could get some of it in his belly ASAP. 

We wasted no time in ushering the two of them into the house where we helped them shed their cold, soggy riding gear and pulled some chairs up to the stove for them. Doug got some whiskey into him and I believe Sharon had a brandy. After an hour or so, their spirits improved and they were finally able to relax and maybe even laugh a bit at their experience, but just a little bit mind you.

Apparently they’d been on the road for over nine hours thanks to a couple of wrong turns, and much of it was in the rain.