A Quiet Thanksgiving

Uncle Cornelius snored lightly on his side of the couch. The button down shirt he wore was as wrinkled as his face and sported a quarter sized, red stain above his left breast pocket. A set in stain, surely, since we had not sat down to eat yet. I thought about how his late wife Birdie would have never let him leave the house in that shirt and smiled. She was a very stylish woman and Cornelius was content to make his wife happy.

“Peter!” My wife's urgent tone shook the warm memory away. “We forgot the cranberry sauce!”

I blinked at her as she stood in the archway leading into our living room. The expression on her face was reminiscent of Kevin McCallister's mother's the moment she realized she left him home alone. “So?”

“So, I need you to go to the store and get some. Dinner just isn't complete without it.”

“Jill,” I began, but her face had already started to turn the shade of red that told me if I even tried to argue the notion she would serve me up next to the turkey and stuffing. So, I closed my mouth instead and looked at Uncle Cornelius who was still snoring away. The stain on his chest rose and fell with each breath.

“Now,” Jill insisted before turning on her heel and disappearing down the hall, presumably back to the kitchen.

“Was Aunt Birdie this bossy?” I questioned Cornelius quietly, not really expecting an answer.

“She only ever had to tell me once, son.” Cornelius smirked as he spoke, though his eyes remained closed.

“Touche’,” I chortled, then groaned as I stood. I had been nestled in the couch so long, I felt as old as the man beside me. “Can I get you anything while I’m out?”

My question was met with the light sound of snoring again.

"Wish I could fall asleep that fast," I thought out loud as I grabbed my coat and keys, then headed out to complete my task.



The market was empty except for the two young employees anxiously glancing at the clock every few minutes. I tossed them a nod as I entered the store, then headed in the direction I believed the cranberry sauce to be in. Half way to my destination I was pleased to find what I was looking for on an aisle end cap, seasonally displayed for my convenience. Can in hand, I headed for the check out.

“What time do you guys close?” I asked, making conversation as the cashier rang up my order.

“Six,” she answered simply.

“Just in time to get home for dinner, huh?”

She ripped the receipt from the printer and handed it to me barely smiling. “Yep.”

“Nice. Have a good one,” I said and took the plastic bag from the second employee. The bag wasn’t necessary, but who was I to rain on his parade?



When I returned home I was not surprised to see Uncle Cornelius still asleep on the couch. I was surprised, however, by what I found in the kitchen.

“You owe me, Jill. I had to go to, like, three different stores and at the last one they had to go digging around the back just to find this sucker. ...Jill?” The dramatic re-telling of my actually very simple trip to the store caught in my throat as I saw my wife and mother-in-law seated at the kitchen table. Their heads were lolled back toward their shoulders, mouths ajar, snoring. My shock gave way to a smirk as I considered this might be a practical joke.

“Ha ha. Very funny ladies. You know, if you really wanted a laugh you should have just sat in the living room with Uncle Cornelius. It would have made for a really great picture.”

Neither woman moved. Committed, I thought and dropped the heavy can on the table between them to force a reaction. Neither woman flinched and I immediately grew concerned.

“Karen,” I said and shook the older woman by the shoulder. Nothing.

“Jill,” I snapped my fingers in front of her face. Nothing.

“The hell...” I cursed and began searching my coat pockets for my cell phone. I dialed the three digit emergency number and tried shaking both women again as it rang.

“9-1-1, what is your emergency?” A male voice answered.

“My wife and mother-in-law are unconscious. I need an ambulance.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know. They were in the kitchen putting together thanksgiving dinner and now they're passed out at the table."

“Sir, can you confirm your address for me?”

I rattled off the street address.

“I have emergency services on the way. Can you tell me if you feel dizzy or nauseated sir, any shortness of breath?”

“No, I feel fine.”

“Is there anyone else in the house?”

“Yes, my uncle.”

“Is he awake?”

“No, but that's nothing new.” I said, immediately regretting the honest but flippant remark. I looked over my shoulder in the direction of the living room and wondered if I should be more worried about Cornelius. “Do you think it’s Carbon Monoxide poisoning or something? Should I get them out of the house?”

I shifted my attention to the little box attached to the ceiling in the hall way. The CO detector was happily blinking as it always did - no warning sounds.

“I would like for you to open the windows and doors, and then go outside until help arrives. If there's anyone else awake in the house, tell them to go outside as well.”

“It's just the four of us. My sister and her family had a delayed flight. They won’t be here until tomorrow.”

“You sound out of breath sir, are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m running around opening windows and doors. This is the most cardio I've done all year.”

I stopped in the living room and nudged Uncle Cornelius. His eyes popped open and he raised his head to look at me. “Can you get me some pumpkin pie?”

“Oh jeez,” I sighed in relief. “Come on Uncle Cornelius. We have to go outside.”

“Is your uncle alright?” The operator’s voice was distant.

I returned the cell phone to my ear, “Perfect.” I grunted as I helped him up from the couch.

“What’s going on?” Cornelius asked as I shuffled him toward the door.

“Karen and Jill passed out in the kitchen. Might be carbon monoxide,” I replied and sat him down on the wicker furniture Jill had insisted upon when we furnished the porch.

"What?" His usual sandman demeanor was replaced with alert concern.

"Help is on the way," I assured him and gestured in the direction of the distant sirens that were growing louder ny the second.

Before long, three different emergency vehicles were parked in front of our house. Men and women in a variety of uniforms stomped up the stairs past us into the house. A couple of them stopped to make sure we were alright. We were given heat sheets to keep warm, and asked several questions, most of which were the same that had been asked before.

Behind me, in the house, I could hear the emergency personnel shuffling around, upstairs and down, presumably getting the windows I hadn't bothered with and turning off things that needed to be turned off. In the kitchen, a tactical conversation was had between at least two or three people. I couldn't hear full sentences, but a smattering of words stood out to me: breathing, vitals good, carbon readings clear, and turkey. The latter threw me for a loop. Of all the things one expects to hear in an emergency situation, turkey is not one of them. Maybe I had missed preceding words like 'cooking' and 'the', a discussion of what possibly caused whatever was going on in there. I wasn't sure, but I let the former words console me for the moment.

Before long Cornelius and I were watching the EMTs carry out, first, my wife, then my mother-in-law. I tried to ask if they were okay, but everyone involved seemed very focused on their tasks, continuing to speak in that same practiced routine order.

I started after them, but before my foot hit the first step I felt a hand on my shoulder. "Mr...?"

The sentence hung in the air for a moment before I realized the police officer standing in front of me was silently asking for my last name. "D-dunbar," I stuttered. "What's happening? Are they okay? Was it Carbon Monoxide?"

The officer shook his head. "No, the CO readings were low and based on what you say about your wife and mother's behavior before they passed out, it seems very unlikely. They'll verify that though, through tests at the hospital."

"Shouldn't we be tested too, just in case?" Cornelius piped up from his place on the wicker sofa.

The officer hesitated. "Well, that depends. Did either of you have any of the turkey?"

Cornelius and I exchanged confused looks.

"No, we hadn't even sat down to dinner yet. I told you guys, my wife was adamant on me getting cranberry sauce. It wouldn't be dinner without it, she said."

"Then you should be fine," the officer said with a confident nod.

"What? What does that even mean? Was there something in the turkey? Was it poisoned?" All the fear that had been quelled in me earlier, now came rushing back.

"No, no, nothing like that. I don't think. It's just..." The officer hesitated. I couldn't tell if he was deciding how to say what was coming next, or if he was weighing whether he should.

"Please," I begged. "I have to know."

There was another moment or two of thoughtful silence before he said, "This wasn't the first call of this kind we had today. There's been at least a dozen and they're all the same. Family sits down to thanksgiving dinner and passes out. We go in, check for CO -- I mean, with all the cooking going on and the temps as low as they've been, it just seems the most plausible. But so far.." he shook his head.

"Wait, if the whole family passes out, who calls it in?" Cornelius queried.

"Well, that's the thing. The people who called it in said they hadn't eaten any turkey. That's the one common denominator and it's why I asked you guys if you had. It's like everyone who eats the turkey falls into a food coma or something." He laughed as though he couldn't believe his own words.

I was in the Twilight Zone.

"It's not possible," I said shaking my head.

The officer just shrugged. Clearly he understood my skepticism, because it didn't seem rational to him either, but a fact was a fact, was a fact -- as my granddad used to say.

"What about the homes where everyone eats turkey?" Cornelius piped up again.

A sudden realization hit us all then as we turned our attention to the empty sidewalks. With all the commotion of sirens and lights that had recently flooded our street, not a single one of our neighbors had come out to see what was going on. There wasn't even a face in a window. It was just the three of us out there, awash in the remaining police car's flashing blue lights.