Since I was a little boy, nothing excited me more than the week prior to Thanksgiving. Yes, I loved dressing up for Halloween, and Christmas was brimming with delight and mystery (in the years when I still believed in Santa), but Thanksgiving was the family holiday that seemed unmatched on the calendar. This was the week when old friends came back to visit my parents, as well as relatives I had never met or rarely seen. It was a truly joyous time without the frenzy of Halloween or the clutter of Christmas, when the house seemed smaller because of the huge decorated tree and the train set going in circles beneath it.
When I was a boy my father’s parents lived with us in a two family house in Queens, New York. Nana was the best cook I have ever known. She would start early on the Sunday before the big day, getting ready to clean vegetables and fruit piled in various bowls on her kitchen table. Nana had expertise in a variety of culinary areas, but her true love was making desserts. I have never tasted anything like her puddings, pies, and cakes.
I would assist her in the peeling process, which could become arduous for a nine year old boy after the tenth potato. We would peel what seemed like hundreds of white and sweet potatoes (which I later learned were actually yams). It seemed impossible that these would become the creamy mashed potatoes and the whipped sweet potatoes with melted marshmallows on top (still one of my favorite taste memories of Thanksgivings past).
We’d finish with the vegetables and then begin washing and peeling the fruit. Invariably I’d be shooed away after sampling one too many chunks of apple or sneaking a few of the sweet dark cherries. She would send me down the hall where Pop was rolling up the rugs in the living and dining room. Pop rarely did housework, but for big events he would vacuum and then take up the rugs, sweep the wood floors, and buff them with a special machine. Of course, I would be in his way as well, so I’d leave their apartment and run upstairs to check on Mom’s progress.
Article comments
1 - diana hartman
oh victor...nice, very nice...sigh...
2 - Lisa McKay
Great piece, Victor. Thanksgiving seems to be the one holiday that we haven't commercialized beyong recognition - thanks for sharing this very nice reminiscence!
3 - Victor Lana
Lisa and Diana, thanks for your comments. For some reason I was standing in the yard raking leaves yesterday, and this all came back to me. I think it was the smell of the cold in the air, the hush of the wind.
I like Thanksgiving because it is not a religious day. Everyone can celebrate it in their own way for their own reasons. That's why it's still relatively pure. Even the department stores can't ruin it. People rather be home with family than shopping.
4 - diana hartman
maybe you could go out and rake some more leaves because i'd like to hear more about your thanksgiving -- your cousins, traditions you've brought from childhood, traditions you've created for your own kids, all that stuff...
cold air and the smell of winter coming in gets me all excited for christmas, and thanksgiving at my grandparent's house was always the starting point...they had an aluminum tree, the nice kind, not the spindly number...i could watch the color wheel go 'round for hours and i always hoped it'd get stuck on blue...
i was the only granddaughter for 10 years so i had to force my way into the reindeer games with 9 male cousins and 3 brothers...my brothers would take a bullet for me but in those days their loyalties were all male so i was on my own...their favorite game was "kill the guy with the ball"...i was not a fan but it was better than yard darts any day and of course i was always "it" first...
the best part was eating and, much like your childhood home victor, desserts were abound...i never liked aunt peg's pink stuff but i loved a sliver of pumpkin pie with a mound of cool whip...one year i got seriously hurt in a game of "kill" and couldn't eat much but grandma brought me a bowl of cool whip and i got to lay in her huge feather bed with those wonderfully icy cold pillows cuddled up underneath a very heavy quilt and watched the parade on her little b/w tv...it was the coolest...
i was 32 yrs old and over a thousand miles from home by the time a space at the big people table opened up...by the time i returned home the elders had all moved and/or died so i never got to take my rightful place alongside the big people...sitting at the table with everyone at my sister's house just wasn't the same...
i loved being with my grandparents, and man oh man was the food good all those years...
5 - Victor Lana
Diana,
That coveted place at the adults table is still part of the conversation in my family. Oddly enough, today my daughter seems only too happy to be at the folding table with her cousins. In retrospect, I think I was too.
Happy T-Day!
6 - Nancy
A lovely, wonderful post, Victor. Thanks!
7 - Victor Lana
Thanks for the kind words, Nancy. Happy T-Day!
8 - Temple Stark
One of your fellow Blogcritics writers pointed your way as a pick of the 11-19/11-25 week. Click HERE to find out why.
Cheers. Temple