Look there is a serious lack of traumatic alcohol - induced family stories in this thread.
You're not a farmer because of your wholesome extended family gatherings. *projection*
Alcohol induced traumatic events? I've got one.
My family is about as Norman Rockwell painting as you can get, I have three brothers, two older, one younger (young one is a little fucked up, but he's the baby so he gets a pass) we all get along great, our wives love each other, my nieces and nephews are an absolute riot, my parents are loving being grandparents, and my mother's folks are still with us at 90 and 92 and sharp as tacks. Thanksgiving is an all day event at my parents farm, and it gets to be a bit hectic with all the extended family there (60+ people I think).
A few years ago, after the meal, the men of the family went out to the machine shed to drink beer and bullshit, by evening everyone was pretty well toasted except the kids, who wanted to go sledding. We all decided that since the kids were sledding we, as responsible, completely shit faced adults, should supervise this activity. This lead to the adults (myself included) also sledding in the back pasture in the dark. Eventually this lead to my grandfather (85 years old at the time) to declare that we were all pussies because we weren't sledding the big hill overlooking the creek, where he and his brothers did years ago. He then takes an aluminum saucer type sled from one of my nephews, and launches himself down the hill and disappears into the dark. We hear nothing but the sled cutting through the snow, and a loud splash some seconds later, which meant only one thing, an 85 year old man with an artificial hip and one lung just landed in a creek in sub 20 degree weather. We all go tearing down the hill trying to find grandad, yelling and hollering at each other to hurry up get to the creek, go get help (no one did, all of us went running down the hill after grandad) and to call 911. 20 completely wasted middle aged men attempting to sprint down a rough hill towards a creek does not a rescue squad make, and almost all of us hurt ourselves in some way or another. My oldest brother broke his arm, my uncle Tom fell and fractured his skull, I cut my arm open and ended up needing 40 stitches as well as breaking 4 ribs on my right side. All but 4 of us ended up needing ER work, or hospitalizations, not including grandad, who had hit a tree right before the creek, and been knocked out before he hit the water. He ended up concussed, needing stitches on his head in 3 places, had a fractured eye socket, a broken arm, 6 broken ribs, and a terrible case of hypothermia which lead to pneumonia that nearly killed him in the weeks later. My youngest brother who made it down the hill intact, was the one who found grandad, and got him out of the creek and up the hill to safety. He ended up with frostbite and lost two fingers on his left hand, and nearly froze to death from being in the creek and then helping all of us that were hurt make it up the hill to the house before he worried about himself. Through all of this, the kids had run to the house to let everyone else know what was happening and to call 911, they then watched as we all came back up the hill bloody, broken and bruised, absolutely horrified.
16 of us ended up in the ER and 6 of those needing longer term hospitalization, but miraculously, we all lived. Grandad was in the hospital for 3 months, my uncle Tom also 3 months, my cousin Mike a month and a half (he had tripped and impaled himself on an old steel fence post and punctured a lung). My older brother Danny a month for multiple severe lacerations and internal organ damage. My cousin Steve a month for both legs broken and a fractured hip. My cousin Dale a month for exposure and frostbite.
So that was Thanksgiving 2014. Not so Norman Rockwell that year, that's for sure.