We usually had Thanksgiving dinner at our house. My mom was a flurry of activity in the days leading up to Turkey Day, deep cleaning the house and cooking up a storm. I think my sister and I did minor chores like dusting and making sure our room was clean, but looking back, I think my mom did the majority of the preparations without complaint. We didn't have a formal dining room in our little Cape Cod house, so my parents converted one of the downstairs bedrooms into a makeshift dining room. The main table, extended with its leaf, was supplemented with a long portable table, creating a "T" shape around which the chairs would be arranged to somehow accommodate our extended family. Looking back it amazes me that we were able to fit everyone into that room, but somehow we did.
After dinner and the dishes were done, the adults would sit around the living room talking and laughing while the cousins would come to our room. In the early days of my obsession with Paris, I learned that my cousin, Joanie, had begun French lessons in school. I remember sitting on my sister's bed next to her while she patiently wrote out sentences on looseleaf paper for me like "Ma cousine est tres jolie" or "La neige est belle aujourd'hui" and I repeated every word, savoring hearing the sound of my voice speaking very broken French. We would drift back into the living room after tiring of board games and hang onto the periphery of the adult's conversations, often gathering near the nut bowl. Does anyone ever put a nut bowl out anymore? I don't think I've seen one since I was a child. Ours was a round wooden bowl filled with walnuts, pecans, and Brazil nuts, complete with a nutcracker and special picks to remove the nutmeats from the shell. After my mom died, I found the nut bowl among her things and it is one of the things I knew I had to hold on to. Just seeing it and possessing it was like holding a piece of my childhood in my hands. Since it was only put out at Thanksgiving and Christmas, the bowl seemed to embody the simple and complete happiness of those days. I still have it, though it's packed away somewhere. As I write this, I know I'll make it a priority to find it and put it out in my own house this holiday season.
Eventually, before everyone went home, it would be time to make turkey sandwiches. I will say right here and right now that although I dearly love Publix turkey subs, nothing could compare with those slices of perfectly cooked turkey breast, mayo and lettuce on fresh white bakery bread. Soon, everyone started packing up leftovers and heading home. While the excitement of the day was over, there would be no school the next day, which was another treat. Often, on that Friday (it was not considered "Black Friday" in those days), I would do some special birthday activity - maybe a movie matinee with a friend and my sister, roller skating or if I was very lucky, horseback riding.
There were only two Thanksgivings in my life that were not happy, traditional affairs. The first was in 1963 when President Kennedy was killed on November 22nd. That happened on the Friday before Thanksgiving week, and my birthday fell on the following Monday. I was only 11 years old, but like everyone else, I was shocked and incredibly sad. I remember spending my birthday watching the funeral procession on tv and having the images of the riderless horse, Jackie's black dress, hat and veil, John-John's salute and the eternal flame burned into my memory. I don't think anyone felt like celebrating in 1963 and I honestly don't even recall whether we got together for Thanksgiving dinner that year or not.
The other sad Thanksgiving happened 10 years ago, in 2011. That year I had come up to Illinois from Florida to see my sister, who was in the hospital with end stage breast cancer. She passed away on November 23, the day before Thanksgiving and her wake was two days later on my birthday. While it takes my breath away to realize that ten years have passed since then, I have come to feel close to her this time of year instead of the paralyzing sadness of those earlier days. I'm grateful that I was able to be with her when she needed me most and I try to focus on our close relationship and how blessed I was to have her as my sister.
These days, my daughter-in-law, Melissa and son Ryan host Thanksgiving. While the family that surrounds me now is not made up of the aunts, uncles and cousins of my childhood, but my own children and grandchildren (Good God, I'm the matriarch!), we are making new memories every time we get together. We eat too much, laugh a lot and I'm able to look around and relish the simple joy of having my family surround me, just as I did as a child. I'll hunt down the nut bowl and bring a bit of those warm, fuzzy memories of Thanksgivings past into the present and be oh so thankful that I'm here to experience it all.
