It was a day made for jumping in the leaves. Gigantic golden, brown, red, and burnt orange leaves covered our yard. “Everyone, grab a rake!” I yelled from the shop while gathering our tools. Eva had a friend over from school. They were excited to take part in raking as many leaves as possible. I kept them busy pushing the leaves to them. Charlotte was entertained by her pink dump drunk and little shovel for loading rocks. Penny and Lola kept pouncing on our growing pile of leaves as if it were for them, and Samson stayed close to Eva, wondering what her next move would be and if he would be a part of it. I didn’t have to look far for Maximus. I spotted him about fifteen feet from the activity. His deep, dark eyes were directly on me – waiting. In case I might need him.
Standing in the front yard, I could almost smell Thanksgiving. As it often does, my mind drifted to a single thought. I remembered a Thanksgiving from many years ago….
“Why are we driving up to your folks before Thanksgiving to eat chili?” Chuck questioned through a slightly irritated glare. Without offering any understanding, I thrusted my answer back. “Because it’s chili night! It’s the night that kicks off the festivities! It’s the night all my family arrives! It’s the night we have a fire, tell stories and visit!” As if all that wasn’t enough, I continued my argument. “Chili night is like John the Baptist before Jesus. It’s the forerunner of the main event!”
Chuck’s stare told the whole story. I don’t think I need to draw you a picture of how that first car ride went on our way to chili night.
Brittney and I were in our mid-teenage years, and we had just moved from South Dakota back South. Now that we were closer to our family for the holidays, new traditions were bound to emerge. Everyone was set to gather at our home for Thanksgiving – both sides. We had a place for everyone between spare rooms, pallets on the floor, campers, and hotels. There was just one problem. What was going to be on the menu the night before Thanksgiving? Mom had already cleaned the house from top to bottom, cooked many of her Thanksgiving contributions, and everyone coming had enough to bring with traveling and food for the main meal. What were Mom and Dad going to do that was simple and easy?
Dad came out of the bedroom and hollered across the kitchen to Mom, “I know what we can do. I will make a big pot of chili!” Mom yelled from the other side of the house, “I will make up some cornbread to go with it!” The plan was set.
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In our family, everyone wants to bring a dish. Soon, the phone line was hot, with family members calling, telling what they would get for the night before Thanksgiving to help feed the growing crowd.
Mother, never without entertainment when a gathering happens at her home, quickly informed Dad that he would be in charge of building a fire out back and playing his guitar. My dad is the king of fireside songs that remind listeners of simple facts like – I’ve Still Got My Truck, and The Grass is Always Greener on the Movie Screen.
Thus, Chili Night was born.
Desserts spread thick and salty finger foods delight the taste buds. Honeybun cake, sausage balls, dips, relish trays, and the famous jalapeño poppers align the counters for chili night. Cornbread and other chili toppings are set out for everyone to enjoy. Coats, hats and blankets make their way out by the fire as everyone finds a place to eat and listen to the fire crackle.
Occasionally, the dogs have had to make the trip, as well. Mainly when they were puppies. The first year Samson attended, he was so excited to get out of the SUV that he took off running laps around my folk’s place. He was gaining speed with each sprint and tail wag. He found my uncle standing in his path; before Samson could stop, he knocked my uncle over! Samson found his way to the chain after that. Fireside and a bowl full of chili, the story titled “He knocked me down!” has continued to climb the charts each year.
The ride on our alternate years has been much more enjoyable as the years have gone by, especially after adding our precious little girls to the family. Children have a way of solidifying the life created by two people.
It’s been over twenty years ago since the first big pot of chili has been cooked. And yet, as if it were the first bowl served, the calls start coming in weeks before Thanksgiving, and the infamous words are asked, “What are you bringing to chili night?”
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