Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving...

My thoughts about "turkey day" go back a long way. During my childhood, it was spent 9 miles out in the country at Grandmother's house. Some thirty or more would show up.They had several hundred acres of farm land, raised some cattle, and had seven children.

I still hold onto those times I watched her putting together ingredients for the cornbread dressing and stuffing for the big bird. No shortcuts. I watched it in progress for several days, and I truly understand why I've never tasted better.

Farm houses in those days were BIG. We had two fireplaces in the living room and for awhile, no bathroom. An "outhouse" sufficed, and in all kinds of weather. Laundry was a handwashing affair, complete with clothespins and clothesline, and on the 3rd day ironing what was starched,alternatively using two heavy irons, heated on an oilstove. Washing dishes, cooking, baking---everything required work.

So when we sat down to the tables on Thanksgiving Day and someone was chosen to say the prayer, there was heartfelt thanks from the heart that also included some hurting feet.

Thankful? For such laborous work?

Yes.

For like some branding-iron, it seared a gratitude into my spirit that I got to live in a time when people got joy out of putting themselves into what they did. No bagged up dressing, no canned cranberry sauce, no instant this or instant that. Real pumpkin pie. Real sweet potatoes, salad fixing from the garden you planted, watered, and saved-----just for this occassion. We put LOVE into what we did.

Even that turkey bird. We fattened it up and guarded it from predators, plunged it into hot water we had heated on that oil stove so we could then pluck its feathers, empty the innards, and used them in the gravy we made. Basted it lovingly with homemade butter,surrounded it with homemade rolls and glasses of homemade iced tea.All through the rest of the day the men are enjoying a game of dominos, the younger kids are roaming every place and munching on the homemade cinnamon rolls and leftovers.

Yes, you're stomach is feeling very empty about now, isn't it?

So much has changed since those days. But we can only miss something if we haven't experienced it.

Would I wish all that hard work on this generation?

In the flesh...absoutely not! Me neither! I’m too old to go to all that trouble anymore.

But in another way of looking at it...I feel sorry you might not ever get the priviledge.

Mary E. Adams