The Haverford Family Gives Thanks (and Pets, Too!)

by Mary Liza Hartong & Andrew Kingsley

Dear Haverfords, Partners, Friends, and Pets,

We are delighted to host the Annual Haverford Thanksgiving Dinner. Even though Spookie passed away this year and Hannah can’t make it because of her “cleanse,” we’re still counting on a weekend chock-full of family fun!

A few guidelines in these trying times. First, you all know how welcoming we Haverfords are. Be that as it may, we must request that you refrain from kissing on the mouth this year (even you, pets!), except, of course, for Grandpa. As you know, the Great Depression was very hard on him. If you must kiss, be sure to plant one on my tight ass. KIDDING! But, I did lose five pounds simply by cutting Crisco from my morning smoothie. It’s the little things.

Now, let’s set something straight (or gay, whatever you call it we love it—Sleigh, Queen!): we love all boyfriends, girlfriends, and what the kids call “casuals.” Though how casual can it be if they’re eating our food, one wonders. Anyways, as we say, no ring, no springs. All casuals will sleep in the living room on air mattresses. Just try not to mind Grandpa’s respirator. It’s called sleep apnea and you can blame that on the War. 

Remember, though, that any sexual congress must be logged in the guest book. We Haverfords try very hard to keep a platonic ambiance in the home, except for Hannah, who’s still banned from the Blockbuster! Hannah, we hope the cleanse is going well.

Now that that dirty girl business is out of the way, here’s the gab on the gobble. Simply put, we are pro-animal in this household. Pro-ham, pro-lambshank, and pro-silky, slinky minx of a turkey. Would God have made turkeys so Goddamn delicious if we weren’t meant to pluck, stuff, and finish the dirty birdies? Leave your vegan diet at the door with your leather shoes, hypocrite Hannah. Turns out she can make it and she’s got a new nose ring. Hope TSA liked that one.

Speaking of beloved American institutions that keep us safe, no politics at the table. Whether your candidate won, or valiantly fought for the law and order of our fragile nation, let’s remember that at the end of the day, politics don’t matter. Yachts do. And whatever Grandpa says, he didn’t fight the Nazis just to be called a transmorphic xylophone! We cannot afford to lose another family member. Not after Spookie’s stroke, HANNAH. That’s just one more thing you cleansed from your life, I suppose.

You may find yourselves thinking, why even gather with no football to enjoy this year? Well, the Haverford Programming Board (aka, Aunt Enid and her grown-up roommate, Astrid) have put their heads and nothing else together to bring us the First Ever Haverford Family Talent Show. There’s only one rule: have fun and no recorders. Oh, and no tassels. Anywhere. 

And men of the family, I think I speak for everyone when I say we’d love you to keep up the tradition of using your outside voices to scream commands and advice at whoever has the field. It would be so helpful for the many budding recordists at the kids table. Here’s an idea: if you’d like to simulate the high-octane thrill ride that is an NFL game, simply help me clear the dishes and load the dishwasher for once. Anyone?

Finally, just a quick reminder to park your worries in our driveway and enjoy yourself. Seriously. Our neighbors just resurfaced their driveway and we do NOT want to be disinvited to their Arbor Day Rumspringa again. April is indeed the cruelest month without it.

And, my treasures, please be careful on the front step. When it’s chilly out that thing’s as slippery as Hannah’s excuses for totalling the Volvo. We don’t care if it was the other driver’s fault. Scram, trash! 
So, cheers, everyone! Grandpa’s kisses await.

Much Love,

Chrissie “No More Crisco” Haverford