Around three o’clock the bell started ringing, and that meant guests were arriving. In those days people came from both sides of the family: My mother’s father and his second wife, my father‘s brother and his children, my mother’s sister and her kids, and assorted other friends and relatives who were “aunt” and “uncle” and otherwise twice or thrice removed. We kids would run down the basement to play, and the adults drank and smoked (yes, in those days people smoked throughout the meal) and Dad and my uncle tried to catch a few minutes of a football game on the TV.
Once the bird was ready, Dad was on duty. He was never more serious than when standing over that simmering turkey with the long fork and huge knife. It was kind of like surgery as he began methodically dismembering the thing, and I often wondered if I ever would be up to the challenge myself when I got older (actually, I’ve only done it once as an adult and I sort of botched the job). After Dad had carved the bird up into platters of white and dark meat which were carried into the dining room so that the feast could begin.
These were loud affairs. We, at the kid’s table were all talking and eating and not minding our manners terribly much. The adults seemed not to care as they howled with laughter, ate and drank copious amounts, and chattered their way through the meal. By the time the pies and treats came out, most everyone would grunt and groan about being too full, but the truth is Nana’s desserts were so irresistible that they would vanish before long.
I never wanted the day to end, but alas my cousins and I would scoop up the coats smelling of moth balls from the bed in the master bedroom and distribute them to the adults. Soon hats were on, kisses exchanged, and everyone was gone. Even worse than taking down the Christmas tree, I dreaded helping my father close up the folding tables and chairs, lugging them down the basement and shoving them into the bin where they would stay in the cool dark until next year.
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