Remembering Thanksgivings Past

by Lisa Mitchell '70

 Last Friday night I relived childhood memories of Thanksgivings past.  I removed my mom's silverware chest from the buffet, grabbed a polishing cloth and parked on the bed.   I closed my eyes and  rolled back the calendar.

I am eight, nine or ten years old now.  Seated at the kitchen table, Mom, Grandma and I are working on the silver.  I polish the spoons.  Lovingly and carefully,  I inspect each one while gazing at my upside-down image in the bowl of the spoon.  Ooohh, that turkey smells good!  Dad and Grandpa are in the living room, sharing sections of the newspaper and swapping fish stories.  My brother and I keep begging mom for a nibble of Grandma's fudge or divinity.  We're starving!  Grandma effortlessly and expertly concocts the giblet gravy while Mom is still looking for the recipe.  Oh, boy!  Iced tea in the fancy glasses with the gold rim around the top!  Ooohh!  Linen napkins!   With my fingertips, I trace  the texture of the tablecloth.  Silverware tinkles gently on the plates.  I strip the strings off the backs of the celery sticks and savor the cheese stuffing on the other side.  Since Mom's too busy talking to notice,  I put as much butter on my  mashed potatoes as I want.  I put an inch or two of sugar in my iced tea, watching it drift lazily to the bottom of the glass.  Then, with that skinny, long-handled iced tea spoon,  I send the ice cubes and sugar whirling like a tornado, just like I do at Grandma's.  Gee!  This is great!  Lookit!  Little, tiny, baby onions in the peas! Where does this stuff come from? Would you all please stop talking about the president so we can have pumpkin pie now?  Laura and I are supposed to play Barbies and ride bikes this afternoon!

OK, I'm back on top of the bed now.  As the years rolled forward, my grandparents became too old to drive.  So, we went to our grandparents' houses for Thanksgiving.  Then cooking became  a chore and we started going out for Thanksgiving dinner.  Then grandparents became ill.  Then grandparents died.  Then Mom became ill.  Then Mom died.  Now Dad is old and living in the Memory Loss Unit at St. Simeon's.  AND I AM THANKFUL!

I am thankful for all the vivid and wonderful memories.  I am thankful that my dad has a warm, clean, safe, loving place to spend the remainder of his days.  I am thankful that in my parents' absence, friends have shared their Thanksgiving tables with me.  And I have my mom's silver and my grandmother's china!  Just think of the memories ahead!

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