THANKSGIVING 1984

"Thanksgiving dinners take 18 hours to prepare. They are consumed in 12 minutes. Half times take 12 minutes. This is not coincidence..." - Erma Bombeck

So many Thanksgivings. I remember the one where the turkey slid off the pan....35 pounds of flesh skidding across the floor like a curling rock. Or the time we left it on the table and the table broke. Dishes. Crash. Slivers.

But it was the Thanksgiving of 1984 that sticks in my mind. Not a Canadian thanksgiving, in October.  An American one in November. My friends, for some reason,  told their family I was  vegetarian . Bean sprouts all the way. I was invited to spend the weekend.

There would be Family. Grandmas. Aunts. Uncles. Football. Food. Root beer.

The morning started before sun up. Aunts in the kitchen down the hall. All talking at once.  All cooking at the same time. They promised me a feast I would remember.  They beamed. At 5 am. I did NOT beam.

In the living room my friends assumed yoga poses and hummed off key. Chanting  and banging on the rock face of the fireplace. Then they crashed on the carpet. That was at 5:30 am.

6am: All the uncles  appeared with coffee mugs. On the porch. They sat there till dinner was called . Or until grandchildren pulled them away from their empty mugs .

Then the music started.  Around the old piano.  A Jam session. Guitars, clarinet, a triangle, the aunts singing. Old songs. They were  pretty good. But  I had my doubts about the triangle.....

"What if today we were grateful for everything?" -Charlie Brown

The house was full. Pots were bubbling. Pies were heating.  Kids running. The rest of us camped out on the green grass in the California sun. It WAS November after all.......

Football. Everyone  piled in around the tv. Everyone's eyes glued. Not the kids. They played musical chairs while the table was laden with food and plates. The aunts threw candies at the kids. They squealed for more.

Then it was dinner. No turkey. No stuffing.  The aunts, in their zeal, had creamed as many  foods as they could. Everyone was going vegetarian that day. Just for me. The aunts beamed. Creamed  onions. Creamed peas. Creamed celery. Creamed corn. Creamed carrots. Cream gravy for white stuffing with raisins. Cream sauce on lentil loaf. Oh the lentil loaf.  Huge thing in its roasting pan. One of the uncles was asked to carve it. And root beer. 

I heard one of the uncles mention beer.......his thoughts were immediately squashed.  The other aunts beamed. They plopped  creamed concoctions onto plates. And beamed some more. So pleased that everyone was trying each dish.  My plate looked like soup.

The kids were so buzzed on candy they couldn't stop running around long enough to eat.

More creamed onions for everyone.....

In the living room the game was still on. The uncles gathered round. They jumped and hollered at the screen. Root beer was spilled.

We ate. The aunts beamed. They all yelled at the tv game. Pies were brought out. Apple. Pumpkin. Blueberry. Pecan. The day was saved.

The aunts beamed. They were generous and funny. And kind. But I've never been able to look at creamed onions ever again..........

"Thankfulness creates gratitude which generates contentment, that causes peace..." -Todd Stocker

 Photographs 2021

CHRISTMAS BIRTHDAY

"Christmas is the keeping place for memories of our innocence..." -Joan Mills

I'd never had a Christmas birthday party. The day dawned crisp and bright. I had high hopes. Five friends were coming. My mother was baking  and cooking away by dawn's early light. 

Christmas was a magical time. Plays, carolling, gatherings, music, more carolling. It all rolled into one big celebration.  And my birthday. Hidden there somewhere. But finally, I could have a party. With friends. On the 18th. The actual day. 

My mother decorated the dining room with  what she could afford. She stayed up late the night before polishing silver and cleaning plates. We did not have a lot, but she managed to count out the dollars to get party food.  My present this year would be the party only, she said. I agreed. 

"Heaven is where Christmas came from..."

                                          - C.D. Lounsborough

For dinner my mother planned shrimp cocktail, on sale  that week. They reminded me of pink worms as they sat in fancy shrimp glasses she had only used twice. She was going to fry 6 veal steaks, boiled veggies, potatoes, buns, and an apple pie. 

Just one pie was all she had time to make. 

But she did not  count on any of it for herself. She decided to have toast and eggs in the kitchen before . She was used to making sure everyone else was looked after.

She went without. Often. 

The evening came. The friends came. Shrimp cocktail was served.  We thought it was grand.My mother had only bought so many shrimp. I had less in my goblet. Spread across its crystal circumference.

Then my mother called me into the kitchen. There was a problem. The cat had gotten into the open packet of veal chops and eaten half of one. She had chewed it all the way across the counter.

The cat looked very pleased with herself. My mother said I would have to go without. So the guests got the veal chops. I got an extra serving of carrots. Oh yay me.

Dinner progressed. The stereo played. We talked. It was time for dessert.I was called back into the kitchen.This time it was to see the cat had licked the butter in its bowl.  My mother fretted about that butter. She had me toss it out and find the margarine. 

Then again, after all that, the cat had been walking on the counter. Stuck both paws into the apple pie.Sure enough, there were two round paw prints all the way through the pie. And some fur. Stuck to the one edge.

My mother informed me, no pie for me. She cut around the paw prints for my friends. I had to go without. I think she gave me the edge of the crust.  So not a lot of shrimp, no chops, extra carrots, and no pie for me. And then I had to wash the dishes and clean up. My mother sat in my dad's chair by the fire and  just sat there for a while.

Afterwards, when everyone had left, my  mother told me to rake the fire. The embers were low and she did not feel like doing much more.

The candles. The real candles......burnt low. The cat mewed . Probably for more butter. I washed pots and pans.Then washed the floor. My  mother stayed by the low burning fire.

Years later, I totally got it. Took me a while. I didn't see it at the time. She didn't eat when we ate. She made sure others got the best. Were cared for. She stayed in the background and cooked on a hot plate on the porch in the wind.  She managed to pull off the perfect dinner. She went without, so others could have. She made sure I would remember......

"Christmas is a season not only of rejoicing, but of reflecting.." -Winston Churchill

Photographs 2020