Turkey Day

[Jim and Sue L.]

Thanksgiving is almost upon us. Once more we take stock of our lives so far and thank our lucky stars we were born in the USA (well, I do). It is also the time of year when journalists, pundits and Joe-down-the-street get into it about the true history and meaning of that first Thanksgiving. Who did what to whom and such. Pick any newspaper, magazine, whatever and somebody is sure to have an ax to grind or chip to shift on those oh so lofty shoulders.

I don't really care.

For me, Thanksgiving is about just that: Thanks. Thanks for health, family, freedom and memories. Ah, yes: memories. You know where this is leading...

Got a story for ya.

Thanksgiving day, 1962: I was nine (yeah, I'm that old, Jenn and stop laughing) and daydreaming my way through the third grade at St. Cyril's in Oakland, California. Sister Jolcum had taken mercy on us by assigning only three hours of home work Wednesday night and as school was closed on Friday, I was free and clear to goof off.

My mother's parents had come over early to help with the preparations and everyone knew their job. It was the duty of the men to welcome all arrivals, collect coats and hats for safe keeping in my parent's bedroom (no such thing as a master bedroom those days...at least not for us), offer drinks or snacks, make sure the TV stayed tuned to the best football games and keep us kids corralled (a lost cause) and far away from the womenfolk in their sacred domain: the kitchen. But with so many people and all the kids racing about, some were bound to avoid notice and slip the leash.

I did.

While Grandpa and Dad were loading up on coats, I scooted around the sofa (I was a small nine) and followed those glorious aromas wafting from the forbidden territory. I poked my head around the corner and stole a peek.

Grandma was at the counter, holding a huge ceramic bowl and whipping potatoes into a frothy white mountain. It had been raining, but at that moment the clouds opened and crystal sunlight poured through the window onto Grandma. The pure rays glinted on her strong, snowy arms, ran along the curves of her still firm cheek and struck those deep blue eyes turning them sapphire. Reaching her thick chestnut hair, it danced merrily about the silver strands that were just beginning to show. At that moment, I thought I had never seen anything so beautiful in my life. And then mom turned around.

She had been at the stove, her back to me and the light. She turned and walked over to Grandma, joining her in those brilliant rays. Barely five foot tall and less than one hundred pounds, mom was fair haired with steel grey eyes. Where Grandma was tall, apple cheeked, dark haired and robust, mom seemed almost colorless and frail. But in that sunlight, she glowed. Pale ash blond exploded into a mass of platinum, her skin became the white of fairy tales, the most delicate rose pink tinted her lips, cheeks and the tips of her fingers. And her grey eyes! They turned to diamonds glittering with humor.

I stood there, my mouth gaping open no doubt, and gawked at the two most important women in my world transformed into Goddesses by a ray of sunlight; an Amazon and a porcelain doll in aprons.

Mom saw me then and I think she asked a question. By the amount of laughter, I assume I was too far gone in adoration to answer. She stuck a warm sliver of golden turkey in my mouth and, with a playful pat on my rump, shooed me away.

The rest of that day is a blur and they are both gone now, but every Thanksgiving I remember and look for a break in the clouds. And if that break comes, I stand in the rays recalling the sight of those two, mother and daughter engulfed in light, and how it made my eyes burn and my heart ache.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Sue

 

[AnnaSteve]

Sue beautiful and heart warming story Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours.Also Happy Thanksgiving to all in the Camp Inn family.

 

[Jim and Sue L.]

Yeah, great Turkey Day to all.

Let's have your stories. Share a memory.

Sue

 

[pat walsh]

My favorate Thanksgiving memories are shinning shoes for my 11 brothers and sisters the night before and lining them up in a row by the oil burner stove. Helping my mom iron the starched cotton dresses for the 8 girls and the white shirts for the 4 boys. Wednesday night laying out the cotton slips, clean sox and underware for each one on the kitchen chairs. In the morning us all rushing to get all prettied up and hair combed and ready for Granny and aunts and uncles to arrive and tell us all how much we had grown. Then sitting in the living room listening to all the adult conversation and quietly waiting for the time to sit down at the table and eat the turkey and all the fixings. And after dinner playing baseball with the kids and men while the women cleaned up and soon it was time for the turkey sandwiches.

 

[Mick'nSarah]

For us, we all used to gather at my grandparents. We would walk in the door to a "hey, take off your coat off and stay awhile." They lived 4 blocks from us, and they had a revolving door for anyone they knew. Thanksgiving has always been the time we have come together as a family. My grandmother was a big baker, and she cooked a lot too (although she was of the mindset that meat should be well done, and if there was juice, it needed some extra time). She made the best mashed potatoes, and their ice box was so cold that milk always tasted best at their house (along with the brownies that were always in the Smokey Bear cookie jar, which now sits on my counter).

Us kids were usually holed up in the guest room with the bunk beds, all of the toys and the Swiss Miss cardboard playhouse my grandmother saved up enough points to order for free through the mail.

Grandpa was always walking around taking pictures of everything. Our family loves to document everything, and I kow exactly where that comes from. I am guilty of it to this day.

The living room was full of tables and chairs and us kids usually sat at the kitchen table. I waited as long as I could before joining the adult table. We had way more fun, and I still sit at the kids table if I can. I was the oldest grandchild, and sometimes second and third cousins would join us, which was always the best, since it bought people closer to my age around.

That tiny house, packed with all of the people I loved most in the world, and the smells...ahhhh, I pine for it still. The dinner bell was rung by one of us (usually me, because I was always quick to ask) and my grandmother, with a look of pride, standing 5'0, brought that giant bird into the living room for my grandfather to cut. He had eyes like saucers when she walked through that door, and her eyes sparkled, despite having been up much earlier than usual and her hair was mussed. She loved having people over and she especially loved having her family together, and she cooked to show her love. She put evey ounce of love she had into that meal.

We would eat and talk and then the card games would come out. I loved playing cards, and it was then, that we learned that, bless her heart, my grandmother was an awful cheat! She was my favorite person in the world though, and I would give anything to play one more game of Hearts with her.

 

[Jim and Sue L.]

Wonderful stories, just wonderful. Please, lets have some more.

Sue

 

[jerry and tina]

Thinking back upon those days bring happy smiles and tears to the eyes...Families were larger and lived closer together (not spread out as mine tends to be now.) We all gathered at grandma's or my aunt's house for the whole day. Women cooking, kids outside or playing monopoly indoors. Menfold out working or doing chores. Augh those were the days. Now we creat new memories with our own children, loving and enjoying every minute with them. Hope everyone had a joyous thanksgiving!