Orcasional Musings | Thanksgiving, the Odd Fellows, and Bill and Monique

|||ORCASIONAL MUSINGS  by STEVE HENIGSON |||

The Independent Order of Odd Fellows is a community-service organization that reckons up its history in the United States from the early 19th century. Its purposes are, among other things, “extending sympathy and aid to those in need, making their burdens lighter,” and “[helping to] make the world a better place to live.” While those stated aims have very serious intent, the Odd Fellows like to have fun accomplishing them, and they take equally great pleasure in bringing enjoyment to the people of the communities they serve.

Some time soon after the turn of the millennium, probably in 2002, the jolly, community-minded members of the Orcasian lodge of Odd Fellows decided to host an annual Thanksgiving dinner to which the entire island would be invited. The Odds undertook to provide their hall, their tables and chairs, their tablecloths, their eating utensils, and, most important, lots of roasted turkeys. The guests, as designated by the initial letter of each family’s name, were to provide the vegetables, the potatoes, the stuffing or dressing, the bread, the drinks, and the desserts.

The Odd Fellows’ scheme was a great success from the very start. The people who came to that first dinner included a real cross-section of the entire island: young and old, rich and poor, individuals and families. They all mixed together, six or eight per table, and filled the entire hall. The food was good, and the conversation was interesting. Folks who were new to the island were welcomed by the old-timers, new friendships were established, and good fellowship reigned over all.

That first dinner, and, indeed, all of the subsequent annual dinners, were so successful because they were so smoothly managed. Making it come together comfortably was quite a job, but Monique and Bill Gincig, the couple who, every year, volunteered to be the managers of the feast, did all of the background labor without either fuss or fanfare. They found the necessary volunteer workers, coördinated the assignments of the side-dishes, eliminated conflicts, and, most important of all, found the restaurants, stores, and people willing and able to deliver well-roasted birds, on time and ready to be eaten.

When Bill got on the telephone, he was so quietly convincing that roasted birds showed up almost magically from The Inn at Ship Bay, the West Sound Café, Roses, The Orcas Village Store, Island Market, and even a few individual donors. At the same time, Monique corralled everybody she could find who was handy with a knife, and, all Thanksgiving-day long, the Odd Fellows’ kitchen was crowded with turkey disassemblers.

When finally it was dinner time, and all of the guests had found seats for themselves, Bill acted as Master of Ceremonies, said a few words of thanks, and then, drawing numbers from his hat, sent the attendees, table by table, to serve themselves from all of the assorted offerings. The people ate and talked, and talked and ate, and everybody had a very good time. At the end of the evening, when everyone’s stomach was bulging, there was still leftover turkey, and, as always, the mashed potatoes and the desserts had disappeared much too quickly, but some of the more exotic vegetable dishes had hardly been touched at all.

Monique and Bill managed the Odd Fellows’ Community Thanksgiving dinners for about eight years, but during much of this time, and unknown to most of the attendees, Monique was suffering with a form of slow-acting cancer that wasn’t responding to treatment. She died in 2011, just a couple of months before Thanksgiving. But the dinners didn’t stop. Bill continued the work they had been doing, both as a community obligation and as a way of honoring his wife’s memory.

Bill finally retired from The Odd Fellows, and from managing their Thanksgiving festivities, in 2018. A committee of other Odd Fellows took over the job, and the dinners would have continued but for the advent of COVID-19. Now, both the Odds and a whole bunch of hungry Orcasians can’t wait for the disease to finally come under control, and the series of community Thanksgiving dinners to continue as they previously had.

You might want to join them. If you don’t eat your fair share, the world could end up knee-deep in turkeys. Happy Thanksgiving!