WeWriWa—Thanksgiving food for the littlest guests

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Welcome back to Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday, weekly Sunday hops where writers share 8–10 sentences from a book or WIP. The rules have now been relaxed to allow a few more sentences if merited, so long as they’re clearly indicated, to avoid the creative punctuation many of us have used to stay within the limit.

This year’s Thanksgiving excerpts come from Chapter 4, “Thanksgiving 1959,” of Little Ragdoll. Set from 1959–74, it takes protagonist Adicia Troy from age five to twenty. Here, Adicia and her four closest sisters have gone to dinner at the Bowery Mission with their surrogate mother Sarah, a live-in nanny and maid whom their black-hearted blood mother barely pays.

They’ve just been served a mouth-watering Thanksgiving feast, and Adicia can’t help thinking about how the rest of her family is missing out. 

                       

Her parents and brothers don’t know what they’re missing, though she does feel sorry for Allen. He probably would come to eat with them, but feels an illogical need to appease their parents and go along with their lifestyle. Emeline says Allen’s a Gemini, the astrological sign of the twins, Pollux and Castor. One of the common characteristics associated with Gemini is acting like two different people, a pull in two different directions.

Adicia doesn’t understand some of these things Emeline knows so much about from all her prolific reading, but she does know she feels very sorry for Allen, stuck in the tenement with their horrible parents and the insufferable Tommy. Mrs. Troy didn’t have to be so rude and mean to him just because he dared to ask for some turkey meat. Adicia hopes Tommy eats so much of that leftover turkey from the garbage that he chokes.

Sarah is holding Justine on her lap and feeding her a bottle of Enfamil when one of the mission volunteers brings more food. The volunteer squeezes Justine’s little hand and smiles down at her. Justine’s blue eyes light up at the extra attention.

The ten lines end here. A few more follow.

“If you’d like, we can bring some baby food to your little girl. We have food even for the littlest guests who come to our tables. You don’t want to only drink baby formula on a big holiday, do you, sweetie?”

Sarah doesn’t correct her. As it is, the four middle girls are fellow brunettes, and she goes out with them more than their own parents.

“Our baby’s named Justine Anastasie,” Ernestine volunteers proudly. “Our dad’s French, so we all got at least one French name. She’s gonna be nine months old next week, since she was born on March second. March to December equals nine months.”

WeWriWa—Served a proper feast

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Welcome back to Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday, weekly Sunday hops where writers share 8–10 sentences from a book or WIP. The rules have now been relaxed to allow a few more sentences if merited, so long as they’re clearly indicated, to avoid the creative punctuation many of us have used to stay within the limit.

This year’s Thanksgiving excerpts come from Chapter 4, “Thanksgiving 1959,” of Little Ragdoll. Set from 1959–74, it takes protagonist Adicia Troy from age five to twenty. Here, Adicia and her four closest sisters have gone to dinner at the Bowery Mission with their surrogate mother Sarah, a live-in nanny and maid whom their black-hearted blood mother barely pays.

                       

The scents of delicious food are overwhelming when they enter the dining hall. Adicia eagerly rushes over to a table with five available chairs and place settings, making sure it’s near the end of the table so they have space for Justine’s stroller.

“Do you mind that you never eat kosher meat, Sarah?” Emeline asks as they’re being served.

“You eat what you can when you don’t have money. Besides, I wasn’t from a religious family. Most German Jews weren’t religious. My family wasn’t anti-religious, but we weren’t Orthodox either.”

“Judaism has different denominations like Christianity? I haven’t read many books on world religions. I don’t even know what denomination my family’s supposed to be, just that we were baptized some type of Protestant.”

The ten lines end here. A few more follow.

“I don’t know either,” Lucine says. “Why did our parents bother having us baptized if we only go to church on major holidays?”

“There are four major branches of Judaism,” Sarah says. “Then there are many different communities in the Orthodox world, and small branches like Karaites. We can look for a good book about it next time we go to the library.”

Adicia practically inhales the feast set before her. Roast turkey, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, stuffing, yams, vegetables, pumpkin, pecan, and apple pie, applesauce, and piping-hot rolls. The volunteers and mission workers are very special for buying, preparing, and serving all this food to so many people, and then cleaning up it all up.

The Bowery Mission, Copyright Beyond My Ken

WeWriWa—A terrible Thanksgiving

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Welcome back to Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday, weekly Sunday hops where writers share 8–10 sentences from a book or WIP. The rules have now been relaxed to allow a few more sentences if merited, so long as they’re clearly indicated, to avoid the creative punctuation many of us have used to stay within the limit.

This year’s Thanksgiving excerpts come from Chapter 4, “Thanksgiving 1959,” of Little Ragdoll.  While Adicia Troy and her four closest sisters are going to dinner at the Bowery Mission with their surrogate mother Sarah, and oldest sister Gemma is going to a friend’s house, the rest of the Troys bar delinquent Carlos are staying in the tenement for a pathetic excuse of a holiday meal.

“I got some turkey breast lunchmeat at the deli for seventy-five percent off since it was two days past the expiration date,” Mrs. Troy says proudly. “Our darling baby Tommy will eat even better than us, since I found some turkey meat at my job the other day. These rich people who eat at that hotel never ask for their leftovers to be wrapped up, so the wait staff throws the excess food in the garbage. People who throw food in the garbage are fools. I bet they’d have heart attacks if they knew poor people like us are getting free meals thanks to their pompous stupidity.”

“How much turkey meat is there?” Allen asks excitedly. “I hope it can feed all of us!”

“You ain’t getting none. That meat is for Tommy and Tommy only. You’re only my third-born; Tommy is my precious baby boy and the first boy after four girls in a row.”

The ten lines end here. A few more follow.

“But what if there’s leftovers? You really think a three-year-old kid can eat a full adult-size serving?”

“Tommy can get as chubby as he wants. It means my baby’s staying warm with extra body fat even if we can’t afford a rich boy’s coat. Now shut up and start setting the table.”

“I guess now ain’t the right time to ask why you and Dad always seem to have enough money for drugs and alcohol but not enough money to buy decent groceries.” Allen stalks over to the cupboard and pulls out four chipped white and orange plates from a tableware set his parents got as a wedding gift in 1941.

                      

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WeWriWa—Guests wanted and unwanted

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Welcome back to Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday, weekly Sunday hops where writers share 8–10 sentences from a book or WIP.

As last year, my Thanksgiving-themed snippets come from Chapter 19, “Happy Thanksgiving,” of the book formerly known as The Very First (which is set during 1938). The new and improved title will finally be revealed upon its release next year!

This week’s excerpt comes about five pages after last week’s, when Cinni, her family, and the longterm guests the Smalls sat down to a joint Thanksgiving feast. Cinni’s great-grandmother Leokadia, a very unwanted guest who invited herself, spent much of the meal arguing with the other side of the family. She hates the family her son Lech married into, and never misses a chance to let them know it.

This has been slightly tweaked to fit ten lines.

To change the subject, Babs and Elmira began chattering about what they were doing in school, and Lucinda name-dropped a bunch of brand names she’d added to her ever-expanding wardrobe and accessory collection. As soon as the immense feast came to an end and the table was cleared, Leokadia threw on her shearling boots and black mink coat.  No one spoke to her as she stormed out the door.

“So many people in my family are nuts,” Cinni whispered to Sparky as Leokadia drove away in her black Model B. “When I have my own family, I ain’t gonna invite relatives for Thanksgiving just ‘cause it’s expected of me; I’ll only invite people I want at my table.”

“You’re lucky you have so many older relatives, even if one of them is a bad person. I never met anyone older than my father’s parents.”

“You won’t hafta see my Prababcia Leokadia again, I don’t think. She shows up every so often to insult us, and then leaves. I like Pra-Prababcia Tanja and Prababcia Bogda most, since they always have neat stories about our ancestors, and they knew people who were alive in the eighteenth century.”

WeWriWa—A great feast

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Welcome back to Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday, weekly Sunday hops where writers share 8–10 sentences from a book or WIP.

As last year, my Thanksgiving-themed snippets come from Chapter 19, “Happy Thanksgiving,” of the book formerly known as The Very First (which is set during 1938). The new and improved title will finally be revealed upon its release next year!

I decided to skip the scene of the turkey being butchered and go right to Thanksgiving, when five generations of Cinnimin Filliard’s family gather together with the five Smalls to enjoy their immense feast. The women in Cinni’s direct maternal line are usually very long-lived. Cinni herself will live to 120.

Thursday at 4:30, Cinni sat down to a Thanksgiving feast with her extended family and the Smalls. Both sides of the table were piled high with turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, cornbread, gravy, mashed potatoes, candied yams, green beans, candied carrots, applesauce, pumpkin pie, apple pie, and bread rolls. Additional foods on the Smalls’ side were chopped liver and some kind of dish made from the other turkey innards. To avoid cross-contamination, the Smalls had several layers of placemats under their tableware, and several folded-up tablecloths underneath their pots, pans, and platters.

Almost everything looked identical, since Mrs. Small had worked from Mrs. Filliard’s recipes. The only differences were that the Smalls’ gravy was made with extra flour, and without cream, butter, or milk, and that their candied yams had a rainbow of colors from the unusual flavors of marshmallows.

Tatjana Modjeska, Cinni’s 98-year-old great-great-grandmother, was petting a fluffy Persian cat in her lap. Sparky was a bit wary of animal fur getting into the food, but anyone who’d lived to almost a hundred was entitled to bring her pet to dinner. Cinni’s great-great-great-grandmother, Helga Wisowska, had passed away four years ago, so Tatjana must miss her mother at the holidays.