When I was growing up, Thanksgiving was a big holiday. Even
though our family of four was small, the table was set for grandparents, aunts,
uncles and family friends. The days before Thanksgiving were a mad rush of preparation.
There was cleaning and polishing and scrubbing. My sister and I were the
dusters, silver polishers and vacuum team. The day before Thanksgiving we were
the vegetable peelers and choppers.
The table was prepared with the good china. It was the set
my mother brought back from Japan after the war. It was white with a silver rim
and a bamboo leaf pattern. She also brought out the good silver. That silver
was polished (by us) and ready to go. The silver box was scratched mahogany.
Inside was a lining of purple velvet and the cutlery was stacked in neat
columns. The backing on the front lid was peeling away from the wood and every
year I thought that someone should glue it back and every year no one did. My
grandmother’s crystal was also on the table; it held olives and
celery even though no one liked that combination.
Thanksgiving morning started at dawn. My dad went into the
kitchen where he washed the bird in the kitchen sink. Why we never got sick
from that I’ll never know. He stuffed it with an old family recipe and started
it cooking. We woke up to the wonderful scent of roasting turkey.
When my sister and I were small we watched the Macy’s
Thanksgiving Parade and then the Natalie Wood movie, Miracle on 34th
Street. As we got older we went to our high school rivalry Thanksgiving Day football
game; always against Red Bank High School. In our 20’s a family of friends
started a tradition of rolls and coffee at their house and then a trek to the
football game. That tradition lasted for many years.
We were always back home by around 2:00 pm. The house was
warm, many times a fire was going in the fireplace and the place smelled
delicious. The family and friends, if not already there, started arriving and
cocktails and snacks were passed around. There was a lot of smiling and laughing
and kissing. No matter what age we were, it was warm and happy and secure.
Fast forward. Life changes, family and friends have moved away or passed on. While those moments can never return, the Thanksgiving traditions flow
through my blood. Tonight I polished a silver tray that I’ll never use. Habit
I guess. I also set the table for our small family with the good stuff; my
mother’s china and grandmother’s crystal celery dish.
On Thursday when I’ll bow
my head and thank God for the family and friends in our lives today, I will
also remember the Thanksgivings of long ago. I truly miss those people and
traditions. I hope that wherever they are, they will feel my prayer and my toast
to their memory. I also hope that my children will have memories of happy Thanksgivings
from their own childhoods and that they too can create traditions that can be
passed down.
Happy Thanksgiving!
