Column: Jeanette family wins contest

Dear readers,

Mom Megan Jeanette looked surprised when Cousin Tom, Uncle Tony and the entire Team Schwinn Prize Patrol knocked on her door a couple of weeks ago. This was the first year Megan entered our Thanksgiving Trivia Contest, and she won!

According to Megan, it was her son, Brody, who suggested she enter the contest. She recalled Brody’s exact words “Mom, you’ve been reading that stupid column for years, I’ll bet you know all the answers to these lame questions.” 

And know them she did!

Megan didn’t just win; she destroyed the competition. She was the only contestant in the history of the contest to answer every question correctly. 

If Jeopardy ever has a “Team Schwinn” category, Megan will beat Brad Rutter or Ken Jennings.

Final Jeopardy: Answer is: The Martha Stewart of Shelbyville.

Megan: Who is Susie Veerkamp.

For you new readers, or older readers who haven’t been paying attention, the “Prize” for winning the contest is to have your favorite columnist (Me) join your family for Thanksgiving.

Note: In order to better enjoy my Thanksgiving with the Jeanette family, I am letting AI (artificial intelligence) write the balance of my column.  Kids, never do this for a school assignment. I can do it because I’m not turning this column in for a grade or to be considered for a Pulitzer Prize in journalism.

I arrived at the Jeanette home just in time for their Thanksgiving meal. It was a feast similar to what the Pilgrims served the Wampanoag Indians at that first three-day potluck.

Figuring Megan would already have the usual Thanksgiving fare including cranberry sauce still bearing the elegant ridges of the can it came in; I brought one of my childhood favorites. 

Doing my best impersonation of Emeril Lagasse, I shouted “bam” and opened the Tupperware sarcophagus. There it was, a shimmering, quivering Jell-O ring, chock full of fruit cocktail.

The way Megan’s sons, Cole (photo, right) and Brody (photo, left), stared at that jiggling circle of mid-century Americana, you’d think I’d just unveiled a UFO. Cole started to compare it to something, but Megan, a master of diplomacy, swiftly intervened with introductions.

The cast of characters was a heartwarming sitcom in itself: Megan’s father, Rick Joseph; her brother, Adam, her uncle, Kehrt Etherton, with his wife, Jenny; and cousins Morgan and Lauren.

Morgan’s husband, Vinny — yes, this family has a “Cousin Vinny,” though he did not, to my knowledge, argue about tire marks or cooking grits — was there with their daughter, Maya.

But the introductions were just background noise. I was already deep in a time-tunnel conversation with Rick Joseph, reminiscing about the hallowed grounds of West Mechanic Street in the 1960s.

Rick, his parents Paul and Betty, and his four brothers, Paul Jr., Tim, Bob, and Alan lived on West Mechanic Street. Just a few houses down lived Paul and Audrey Zerr and their five boys, Frank, Dave, Bob, Kevin, and Mark.  

I was a friend of Kevin’s and a frequent guest in that neighborhood. I had such fond memories that I bought a house on the same side of the street as the Joseph and Zerr households over 40 years ago and still live there today.

I have no idea how long Rick and I were lost in that sepia-toned world, but Megan brought us back to the present. She reminded us it was Thanksgiving and Uncle Kehrt was hungry.

Aunt Jenny, hailing from Greenfield, delivered the blessing in a flawless James Whitcomb Riley accent, “This here turkey, et cetera…” It was pure Hoosier poetry.

Feeling the spirit of the day, I then offered a brief land acknowledgment. After all, the first Thanksgiving included Indigenous people, and it seemed only right.

I noted at least one Indian Chief could give thanks for the Europeans. If the Spanish hadn’t introduced the horse to America, Lakota Chief Crazy Horse wouldn’t have had a last name. He would have just been “Chief Crazy.”

Maya chimed in, “My mom’s crazy too.”

Right then, I suspected that sitting at the children’s table with Maya might be the highlight of my visit.

But why was I assigned to sit with Maya?

Turns out, the Jeanettes observe Thanksgiving traditions as delightfully eccentric as the Costanzas at Festivus. Two people were destined for the kids' table: Maya, because she is small, and one unlucky adult, to be determined by single-combat arm wrestling.

My opponent was to be Cole, a teenager on the wrestling team.  In need of a quick excuse, I claimed my wrestling arm was still sore from a legendary streak of victories at Willie Farkle’s the night before.

I gracefully forfeited and took my seat beside Maya (photo), a strategic retreat worthy of Sun Tzu.

Uncle Kehrt carved the turkey with the precision of a surgeon, and the meal was magnificent. Maya and I debated the merits of Paw Patrol. I’m Team Rubble, she’s all about Chase. 

The last thing I remember before falling into a tryptophan coma is watching football.

When Cousin Vinny shook me awake to send me home, I overheard Brody and Cole in the kitchen.

“I think the old-timer had too much eggnog,” Brody whispered. Cole, ever the skeptic, replied, “I’ll bet he wasn’t even at Willie Farkle’s last night.”

Megan has smart kids.

See you all next week, same Schwinn time, same Schwinn channel.