Thanksgiving in New Orleans

Staying tucked in my little niche of the world is easier than discovering how the rest of the human race lives. My dear family, however, insists on dragging me out of my cozy corner.
Like last week: The college senior thrust a dish in front of me of salted, dried, tiny fish with itsy-bitsy eyes still in their wee, little heads. “Want a taste, Ma?”
He popped one in his mouth and chewed. I recoiled, “No thank you, not right now.”
Then he offered me kim chi, a spicy Korean dish of hearty, pickled vegetables. I took a tentative bite. My taste buds sounded a fire alarm.
They dried fish and kim chi, at his request, had been part of his pay that week for tutoring a Korean ministerial student who frequently feeds him after tutoring sessions. My son brought the dried fish and spicy vegetable as his contribution to the family Thanksgiving feat in New Orleans at his brother”s house. My pregnant daughter-in-love relished the fish and kim chi.
The tutor invited a Russian-speaking student from Uzbekistan: “Mom, make sure they don’t have any pork. He’s Muslim.” Then he called and asked, “Is there also room for my dear Russian roommate from Kazakhstan?” he rolled his R’s as he asked. I said, “Sure, but tell him he may be sleeping on the floor.”
Wednesday morning son and friends took the mini-van loaded with sleeping gar, duffel bags of clothes, back packs of books ingredients for pies, a frozen turkey, gifts for the family-to-be and my dear, darling daughter. Wednesday evening my husband and I left in the small station wagon with our third son who had had a Wednesday class. We took more sleeping gear, duffel bags and a pre-cooked turkey: In case we needed it to feed five college-aged men.
In case we needed it! Ha. Right!
They consumed both 20-pound birds, a chicken a heap of chicken leg, the dried fish and four pounds of kalamari, loaves of white, wheat and banana bread, plus a mound of fresh fruit and a hug Vietnamese shredded cabbage and chicken salad They even ate up all the dried fish. I got one little tie.
For Thanksgiving dinner, my son and wife invited a Korean student whose family lives in Japan and a tall, thin American escorting a beautiful college professor whose parents live in Greece. Didn’t leave a lot of quiet corners for me.
Fortunately, those guests went home. We seven visitors stayed in their three-bedroom duplex with one working bathroom and camped out on the hide-a-bed, the couch cushions, a cot and assortment of mattresses.
The guys made the pies, peeled potatoes, ate their food, then ran to catch the ferry to visit the sights in the French Quarter. After the Thanksgiving feast, we saw them only for breakfasts, overdue suppers and late nights when they returned to flop for the night.
It was a fun, crowded busy time. By Sunday, I was not the only one ready to return to that cozy corner and flop in bed. I better enjoy it while I can; the Christmas holidays are only a couple weeks away.