Thanksgiving Memories

 My computer problems are finally solved. I have been without this trusty laptop for almost three weeks due to various snafus. But today, my IT guy here at Meadowlark brought it back to me with a new hard drive and a whole new look. I'm going to have to spend some time figuring out the how and why of this seemingly new laptop. Posting on my phone was too difficult, too time consuming. So, I apologize for the lack of posts these past weeks. 

Thanksgiving is only two days away, and I've been thinking about Thanksgiving celebrations of my childhood and those when my own children were young. It's a perfect topic to write a family story or a slice of life piece about what this annual feasting day was like for your family. 

I grew up in a Chicago suburb in the 40s and 50s, and life was a bit different. Slower paced perhaps but we weren't aware of it then. Looking back at the Thanksgivings of my growing-up years, I have a warm feeling.

My father's two sisters and families lived not too far from us, and my mother and the aunts took turns hosting Thanksgiving. The six adults and 9 children of various ages gathered together on what was often a dreary day outdoors, typical of the Chicago area, but full of sunshine around the holiday table inside. 

We lived in a two bedroom, third floor apartment with a decent sized dining room, but a miniscule kitchen that had a formica table. Somehow, my mother prepared the large dinner in that tiny kitchen, and there was room for everyone to sit at one of the tables. The aunts brought side dishes sometimes, but often Mother created the entire dinner. We had turkey, of course, stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy, a vegetable of some kind, a delightful salad called Seafoam made with canned pears, lime jello, cream cheese, and whipped cream. A holiday staple for our family. Dessert was, of course, pumpkin pie with a dollop of real whipped cream on top. Mother also made dinner rolls of one kind or another. Parker House was the one she made the most often. 

After dinner, the men lounged in the living room, the kids were sent outside to play, cold or not, and the women did all the dishes by hand. No dishwasher. When my cousin, Carol, and I reached early teens, we were drafted to the clean-up committee. I remember the laughter and chatter as we dried the silverware, while the women took care of the china plates. How we all fit in that little kitchen is a wonder to me today. How my mother created such wonderful holiday meals in it seems almost a miracle. 

We didn't expound on the meaning of the holiday as we gathered, but we all knew what it was about. All of the cousins had learned about the Pilgrims and the first Thanksgiving feast in school from kindergarten through sixth grade. Maybe each person around those two tables were silently grateful for food and family and a time to be together. 

Thanksgivings at my Aunt Adeline's became memorable, too. She and Uncle Tom and their four children lived in a large, old home with a big farmhouse kind of kitchen. This aunt was a wonderful cook, known for the best gravy ever. We didn't have the Seafoam Salad at her house, but the rest of the menu was the same. They had a big yard, where we kids were sent after the big dinner, while the adults at the table drinking coffee and picking at what was left. 

Thanksgiving in those years meant family and food which is pretty much like it is today, but the food prep and clean-up is more streamlined. Still, women in the kitchen and the men around the tv is pretty much the same. During the 40s, the men gathered around the big console radios we all had instead. 

Consider writing about your Thanksgiving memories for your children and grandchildren. Count your blessings as you prepare for this holiday, hopefully with family or friends.