Mandatory Thanksgiving Post

Well, it's that time again. Today is the day we stuff all the food within sight and reach into our mouths while sitting around a table with people you avoid most of the year. It's a uniquely American tradition, they tell me, as they ignore all the harvest feasts that have existed as ritual in human civilization. I suppose I should be less cynical, shouldn't I?

When I was a wee child, we'd all pile into the family vehicle for the hour long ride to Grandma's house where I would see all the cousins and aunts and uncles that were in our extended family. Well, on one side of it, that is. My mother's side. That side of the family was very sociable, my father's side not so much.

We never went to the house of my father's parents for big family dinners or family holidays such as Thanksgiving or Christmas. And except for us, none of my father's family ever attended the gatherings of my mother's family. I never knew why as a child but, as a child, you mostly don't question, you just accept. I still don't know why it was this way but I can speculate.

My father's mother was not a pleasant woman. She was nice enough but she didn't seem the grandmotherly type, more the grouchy old woman type. And family gatherings always seemed to be about the matriarch, yes? My father didn't get along well with his siblings. When they got together, the tension was there and could be felt. There was no joviality in the air. It was more like fulfilling a requirement than a need, if you know what I mean. This filtered down to us kids and affected our relationships with our cousins on that side. One uncle, Robert, lived closer to our home than my mother's parents. Yet, I can only recall one visit to his house.

But at Grandma's (Mom's side) house, there was laughter and play and friendliness. I looked forward to every visit there. Food was plentiful, the atmosphere free of all tension, everyone had smiles on their faces, and conversations never led to arguments. It was like a scene you'd see on the cover of the Saturday Evening Post. Norman Rockwell moments, the very image of American family life.

We'd sit around Grandpa's chair while he told tall tales the youngest would believe were true and he pulled quarters out of our ears which ended up in our pockets. The TV was never turned on but no one missed it. We had watched the Macy's annual parade (some of it anyway) before we left home. We'd play and get along quite well. I would even get along with my own siblings much better than I did at home. Or in the car on the way there or back home.

Today, Faye and Frannie are busy in the kitchen cooking the turkey and preparing the meal. There will be just us. And while we will stuff ourselves and enjoy our ourselves, it just won't have quite the same magic.




Happy Thanksgiving all!