Thanksgiving Day – The only family ‘day? we had in my growing up years. Our father didn’t observe Christmas and made it a point to book his railroad job every December 25.
But we feasted on Thanksgiving. Usually, we had goose. Dad liked goose, probably because more it had dark meat.
He made the dressing. I was too young to appreciate his efforts, but he was in the kitchen for hours, cutting and mixing. He also had a toddy handy.
Of course, there was squash, potatoes, vegetable, cranberries, bread, salad and pumpkin pie to be made. Mother did that stuff. And, most loved, the gravy. Wow, what a difference a great gravy makes. Gravy really makes the meal.
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Weather lore: Cobwebs on the grass are a sign of frost.
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Today’s Thanksgiving morn isn’t totally different, but the characters sure are. Daughter Luan will have done most of the shopping . . . the turkey has been in my freezer for some time.
Dinner is a mid-afternoon thing, after the football game. I suppose we have to watch the inept Lions again. Luan and I will toast ourselves with a bloody Mary, then the chopping begins. I get involved in some of that.
My last use of the pre-meal is to hold the turkey’s rear end up and hold the legs apart to make Luan’s bird stuffing easier.
We expect 15 at the dinner table. With the aroma floating and appetites swelling, all await we adults urging the young twins to recite their simple prayer. ‘God is great, God is good, let us thank Him for this food,? eventually comes out of their mouths.
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Never miss an opportunity to make others happy even if you have to leave them alone to do it.
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Then the passing begins. Hey, hey, no sampling as it goes by. No one eats ’til I eat. Ready? Go! Talking ceases, silverware clangs, then someone always says, ‘Pass the salt, please.?
Every feast, home or away, that request is given. I can’t help but wonder if it’s habit, ’cause often the salt and pepper is requested prior to any tasting.
In too short a time the self-stuffing is over, but ‘Did you leave room for pumpkin pie??
‘No, but I’ll have a little piece,? says one who has found a small cavity in their tummy.
Then the picking up and putting away begins. I miss this, because I sit at the end of the dining room table and I can’t just jump up and help.
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There was an old man from Nantucket
who kept his cash in a bucket
But, his daughter named Nan,
Ran away with a man –
And as for the bucket, Nantucket.
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Ah, but the best isn’t necessarily over. For when all are gone, and I’m again alone, there’s a carcass under a sheet of aluminum wrap to pick at, there’s some marshmallow, mandrin oranges, sour cream, coconut and pineapple salad to re-taste, a small slice of pumpkin pie, a belt to let out, a sign of satisfaction and my lounge chair to revisit.
Then too, I can recall the meal’s beginning, ‘God is great, God is good, let us thank Him for this food,? but why didn’t you, God, tell me to stop when the full point was reached?