(Daddy, me, Mother, Carol--1952)
I remember Thanksgiving as a little girl living in Midway and the
wonderful accompanying smells. Mother was up at the crack of
dawn to prepare the turkey and homemade stuffing which was
always cooked inside the turkey. The turkey was cooked in an
roasting oven that sat next to the kitchen cupboard.
Dough for her yummy Parker House Rolls was raising and pies
made the day before were "cooling" in the utility room.
Mother made her own mincemeat for pies using deer roasts and
it was to die for. That is something I really miss. REAL mince-
meat, not the kind you can buy now or that I get from our
meat department at work.
How I loved being able to help "roll" out the dough for the
rolls, cut them in circles, brush them with melted butter,
slice the center, fold them and place them on cookie sheets to
raise. They were always light as a feather and baked to a
light golden brown. I have tried for years, but have never been
able to make them like she did even though I helped. Mine seem
to always pop open. But they were the best for those turkey sandwiches
later in the day or even the next day.
I don't think we often had company. At least I don't think we did.
But, it didn't matter. We just enjoyed Mother's good cooking and
always laughed when she said she wish she had a zipper down
the front of her that she could unzip when she had eaten too
much. Why do we always eat too much dinner?
I remember a couple of years when we went with Daddy to the
turkey shoots where he would always win us our Thanksgiving
turkey. It was pretty exciting and there were always lots of
men participating. Dad even shot a goose one year. It wasn't
too bad. Of course, Mother always had a gift when it came to
cooking wild meat.
Dinner was always served in the early afternoon. While my sister
and I helped Mother clean up the kitchen after, Dad always stretched
out on the couch to sleep off his meal and whatever else he had been
into. But, we didn't allow him to rest very long because my sister
and I were anxious to don our snow pants, coats, boots and
gloves and head out to Deer Creek or Pine Creek to cut our
Christmas tree.
(Christmas trees waiting to be loaded onto jeep)
What fun it was wading through the snow searching for just
the right tree. We often took the Holmes with us and sometimes
Daddy would cut an extra tree or to for others. Then they
were loaded onto the jeep and home to be kept in the chicken
coop until the middle of December. Seems like our tree
could never be put up until around the 15th of the month.
I remember one year while tramping around the hills we
spotted a bear. Dad got so excited and so frustrated because
he didn't have his gun. We had to make a rush trip home for his
gun but by the time we returned the bear was nowhere to be found.
How disappointed Dad was, how relieved I was! It was a little
unnerving to a little girl.
Christmas music was turned on in the evening while we munched
on left overs. That was the beginning of the Christmas season for
our family.
Now today as I sit here reminiscing, I'm grateful that we always
had enough, that our table was never empty. I'm grateful that
I had a sister even though we were not especially close growing
up---six years apart makes a difference. I'm grateful to parents
for providing for us and making sure we never went without.
I'm grateful for the good times--yes there were some good times!
I'm grateful for my rich heritage and those who have gone before
me. I'm grateful we have a special day set aside when we can
focus on our blessings for we surely do have much to be
grateful for.
Happy Thanksgiving everyone!
