I WAS GLAD THANKSGIVING HAD FINALLY ARRIVED. I WAS THANKFUL and happy I had so many blessings. But it was always a hard day for me to get through without feeling some sadness. I got in a mild funk on every holiday—except Halloween—because I didn’t have enough family members in my life to celebrate with. My two older sisters lived with their husbands and kids up North. I had a bunch of other kinfolk in Alabama, but I rarely seen them. They was so into church and the Bible, they didn’t feel comfortable around people like me and Milton. I was glad we had close friends who treated us like family. Especially well-respected professionals like Dr. Patterson. His invitation for us to eat Thanksgiving supper with him and his family meant a lot to me and Milton.

We left home a few minutes before three p.m. to go to the Pattersons’ house, which was only four houses from ours on the same side of the street. More than a dozen of their relatives, friends, and several other neighbors had also been invited. Mrs. Patterson had bought a lot of food to make sure there’d be enough to feed everybody. But she was still glad I’d brung a big pan of candied yams.

Since there was so many guests, we ate buffet-style. That made it more fun because we could eat standing up and mingle at the same time. They didn’t serve no alcohol, but everybody was almost as rowdy as the folks who came to drink at our house. The reason there was no drinking was because Dr. Patterson’s elderly mama lived with them. She didn’t tolerate booze in the house because there was always a bunch of grandkids and other young relatives on the premises. I couldn’t tolerate such a strict rule in my house, even if we wasn’t bootlegging. It was no wonder Dr. Patterson and his wife spent so much time visiting us.

We was having a good time and ate way more than we should have. After three helpings each, Milton had to loosen his belt. I was so full, my stomach felt like it was going to explode at any minute. People we had never met before was hugging and chatting it up with us like they’d known us our whole lives. “Yvonne, I ain’t never met no bootlegger like you,” Dr. Patterson’s handsome young nephew commented. We had finished eating and everybody was standing around drinking cider in the huge living room.