My favorite parts of the Thanksgiving Day meal have included Grandma's stuffing, made famous by Pepperidge Farms (thanks, guys!), mashed potatoes and gravy (is it ever possible to eat enough of those?), the turkey (dark meat, please) and, of course, my all-time favorite: PIES! And from my recollection, the pies were always plentiful. Everyone seemed to have a different favorite, so that generally meant we had to have at least a dozen (though that could possibly be an exaggeration) of the usual: chocolate, coconut cream, banana cream, apple, pumpkin, cherry, mince meat (who brought THAT?!) and duplicates to make sure that nobody got shafted after the first go-round. Pie was, is, and always will be a reason to celebrate. I am thankful for pie.
Ashley, thoroughly thankful, enjoying her coconut cream pie.As the years passed, families moved away and so not everyone was able to make it to Thankgiving each year, but we were always able to be there. I don't remember EVER missing the traditional Thanksgiving at Grandma's until I went off to college, and those were the days I sorely missed it. But some things were always constant: sleeping at Grandma's House, watching that Thanksgiving Day parade while anticipating the Parade of Pies, and eating leftovers for days on end.
Times changed and families moved around some more, bringing some back to join us again, and we eventually grew too big for Grandma's House. I don't remember when the torch was passed (it was probably while I was in college) but the annual Thanksgiving Day celebration was hosted by my Aunt Cheryl and Uncle Bruce for a number of years. As was customary, everyone contributed in some way or another, and the meals were always wonderful and the company, grand. My first Thanksgiving with Chris was spent in their home, and I, of course, have memories of what that was like at first. HA HA Chris has certainly grown to be a part of this large, wonderful extended family. The memories have only grown sweeter.
I am thankful for my Grandma and all those years that I enjoyed Thanksgiving at her house. I will always remember seeing her cook for days on end so that we could enjoy the best meal of the year. I will always feel a little ashamed that I wasn't as excited about helping with the dishes afterward, but I was young and didn't understand why the girls were always chosen to do that while the boys always got to run off and play. (I STILL have a problem with gender stereotyping, but now that I'm older, I can understand a little better. I wouldn't trust the boys to do a very good job of the dishes, either, Grandma.) I always felt sadness on the trip back home, because I knew that it was going to be awhile before I'd see her again and experience the togetherness that Thanksgiving always was in my eyes. (I think I also felt sadness because we always listened to my dad's tapes of Kenny Rogers on the way back and my memory of "Lady" is that it is just one of those sad-sounding songs.)
I am thankful for the Carlings and the Thanksgivings I have spent at their house. Now that I am an adult, I can sympathize and appreciate just how much they had to do to make their house ready for nearly 30 people. They borrowed tables and chairs from the church just so everyone had a place to sit. The food disappeared a lot faster at their house, because we were all grown up with grown-up appetites. Many of those years, Chris and I had to head home right after dinner, so there wasn't a lot of hanging around to help with the clean-up or getting to unwind after the meal was over by ringing in the Christmas season with the annual showing of Chevy Chase's Christmas Vacation and Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol. (I don't remember if that's the name of the show or not. I just remember the little song about razzleberry dressing.) The memories of those years were different, but one memory has and always will pass the test of time. I remember being grateful to have been there, with all of the family that could make it, and I will forever be grateful that I had a place to go, where I was surrounded by people that loved me and welcomed me into their home to share a celebration of thanks.
As we have all grown up and many have started families of their own, the sheer number of people has now made it necessary to start new traditions. This year was the first year that I can remember Thanksgiving being celebrated in the home where I grew up. Admittedly, I was skeptical that the celebration would be as enjoyable. How could it be, with so many important people missing? I figured it would be an adjustment I would have to make. "Grandma" no longer means MY grandmother, but it is Zachary and Ashley's grandma. I have gotten used to hearing her be called that over the past 3 years, but at our "first" Thanksgiving, that just seems a little strange. I couldn't help but think of MY "Grandma" sharing her first Thanksgiving dinner without us. I wondered if she was sad and missed us. Maybe she was relieved that the production had to be scaled down. I don't know, but I know that I missed those Thanksgivings from the olden days.
I am thankful that our Thanksgiving Day feast was celebrated with most of us in attendance. Even my Aunt Kathy joined us from Tennessee. My sister, Wendy, was the only one missing from our branch of the family tree this year. I talked with her on the phone a week or two beforehand and got my hopes up when I learned that she actually had been contemplating whether or not to fly home from Boston for the occasion. (Seeing as she is still in orientation for her new job, she had several days off in a row because the hospital where she works didn't want to pay holiday pay to someone new who had to work alongside someone else that also had to be paid for the holiday.) I wished that there was a way that she could have come. I was even willing to help pay for her ticket (a meager amount), but for some unknown reason, she didn't want to pay $500 for a ticket. I don't understand cheapskates. (JUST KIDDING!!!!) My point was that I WISHED she could have come. In my mind, I had this whole grand surprise worked out so that she could come and stay at our house and waltz in the front door of my parents' house on Thanksgiving Day and just get the party started. That really would have been something else. Sadly, it just didn't work out that way, but at least we did get to talk to her by phone while putting the last dishes in the oven.
Before the meal began, my dad decided that we'd go around and each tell something that we're thankful for. Yes, this is a tradition in most families, but I think it was the first time we'd ever done it. Don't know why that is, but we did it this time. I can remember what just about everybody said they were thankful for, but the most memorable part of the experience was when everyone would start out, "I'm thankful for..." and afterward, Zachary would end with an exuberant, "AMEN!" It was terribly cute, and I was very proud that he already recognizes the association of prayer with expressions of gratitude.
My brother, Matt, thankful he would be earning his college degree in just a few more weeks.Having Thanksgiving at "home" (my home away from home) had a different feel to it, but it was a nice, warm and cozy feeling. We sat at our own tables, rather than those long folding ones borrowed from the church that almost make you feel like you're at a ward activity instead of a family gathering. While those were necessity in the past, it was nice to be able to sit around our family's table and enjoy a feast without the feeling of cattle prods poking you from behind. The food was all excellent, and Ashley sampled the stuffing ahead of time to let us know it was safe to eat. She really enjoyed that!
My little turkey, stuffing herself.
After a wonderful meal, Chris settled down for an afternoon snooze. My brother, Scott, always being the prankster, decided to lead his 8 year-old son, Bryon, in aiming tiny paper balls toward Chris' open mouth. I don't think any ever made it in, and I don't think that Chris would even know about it without seeing pictures. What would Thanksgiving be without family?
Bear in the Big Blue Chair
