Sh*t Shows

If you have read the previous posts in this blog, then you will likely understand that the Price family has never been scared to cause a scene. Holidays and special occasions are no exception.

When Mamaw and Papaw first moved back to North Carolina, they moved into a hundred-year-old two story, green house. The house was rumored to be where the people from the nearby mill village would go to play poker. The whole family swore that the house was haunted, and that there was parts of the house that they didn’t even like going in. One year, in the early 80’s, my grandparents, and my mom and aunts and uncles, were sitting down to have Thanksgiving dinner when they realized the house had caught on fire. Everyone but my grandpa ran down to the neighbor’s house for safety. Not long after, my grandpa came rolling down the neighbor’s driveway in his pickup truck, with the big screen TV in the back. The house burned all the way down, with everything inside- minus the big screen TV.

Photography by Victoria Phillips

Another year on Thanksgiving, the police showed up to my grandmother’s and arrested my cousin Timmy for running someone over with his car. The day before, he had been visiting a friend when a man robbed him. The man threatened Timmy with a gun, sticking it in the car window, and forced him to hand over everything he had. Timmy handed everything over, then waited until the man got up on the porch of the house, floored it, and ran him over. The fellow was injured, but made a full recovery and lived. Once we all figured out the whole story, we all agreed we probably would have done the same.

The next event in this series of shit shows is my brother’s wedding. My brother proposed to his girlfriend, who none of us really knew that well, and wanted to have his wedding in Mamaw and Papaw's front yard. My mom laboriously made the wedding cake herself. On the day of the wedding, my brother decided to get himself so snookered that I believe he was asleep, standing up, through most of the ceremony. I felt so bad for his new wife that I asked her if she wanted to go get a drink and take a break from the wedding festivities, and my cousin Stacey joined us. In hindsight, I now understand that adding alcohol to the mix was probably not the best idea. But at the time, I was trying to get to know my new sister-in-law, and thought it might make her feel better to just get away for a minute. Well, she requested a whole bottle of Capt'n Morgan. Stacey and I just shrugged it off, what’s the worst that could happen?

Back at my grandparents, all of the kids were asking for a piece of the wedding cake, which had not been cut because my brother was sleeping it off in a bedroom. His new wife wakes him up, and drags him out to the porch where the cake was. He barely has his eyes open, so I’m assuming she thinks that a little Capt'n might just be exactly what he needs for revival. 

The next series of events go in slow motion…. His wife lifts her cup up to his mouth to give him a drink, and my mom (concerned that he might die from drinking more on top of whatever else he already decided to drink) leaps over the table, slaps the cup away. The contents of that red solo cup spray all over the wedding cake. My brother’s wife takes off running up the street, to the tune of all the kids wailing and crying when they realize the cake is ruined and they can’t have any.

Mom picks up the cake, places it in the driveway. Gets in my dad’s truck and rolls the windows down. With a warrior cry, stomps on the gas, and runs that cake over. Puts it in reverse, yells some more profanities, and runs it over again. Under normal circumstances, the bride and groom would have smashed some wedding cake on each other’s face playfully, then left while church bells were ringing and doves were released. Not today, Satan.

So this year, when I found myself at the center of the drama, I think it must have just been my turn. My daughter Anna insisted on bringing her dog. The dog got a piece of turkey and started choking on a bone. Really choking. Making no noise choking. So I’m watching my mom try to give the dog the Heimlich while everyone is gathered around, and I wonder what else can happen. I tell Ava, my oldest daughter, to go help, and she says, “I ain’t tryna see a dog die today!” Mom gets the turkey bone out of the dog’s throat and everything simmers down, somewhat. Until picture time. 

I am trying to get my daughters to take a picture together and they start fighting. The fighting escalates until I end up having to scream, “EVERYONE GET IN THE CAR!” We get in the car and no one speaks for a minute. Once we are down the road a little ways, we all burst into tears. Which intensified when we realized we didn’t even get any Thanksgiving leftovers.

Out of all the trials that we have gone through, all the fighting and catastrophes, we have somehow always been able to pull back together, even if it is only once or twice a year for Christmas and Thanksgiving. I guarantee it will always be exciting, and hopefully we will always be able to laugh about it later. If you’re holidays are ever boring, you can always join us out on Rudisill St 😊

In the meantime, I will leave you with one of Papaw's famous jokes:

A recently divorced woman put an ad in the newspaper: "Looking for a man. Must not hit me or run around on me. Must also be good in bed." Some time passes until one day she hears the doorbell ring. When she answers, there is a man in a wheelchair with no arms or legs. He says, "I'm here to answer your newspaper ad. I have no arms, so I can't hit you, and no legs, so I cant run around on you." The woman considers this, then asks, "Well, how are you in bed?" He says, "I rang the doorbell didn't I?"

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!