Thanksgiving is an American tradition. It celebrates the survival of the European pilgrims who came to the New World in 1620, who planned a feast to thank God for that survival after a tough year. The stories are all over the Internet. I don't need to tell the story here.
The actual holiday, which hasn't been around all that long, has translated into family gatherings with traditional foods: turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes and gravy, green bean casserole, candied sweet potatoes, other lovely side-dishes, and the piece-de-resistance, pumpkin pie. Hopefully, the true reason for the day hasn't been missed: thankfulness. People are so busy trying to provide the traditional foods for the disenfranchised that they sometimes forget the reason.
I have lived through many Thanksgivings in my lifetime:
*There was the one when it snowed relentlessly, and I followed a salt truck down the interstate, praying the entire distance that I would get to the farm for our family gathering in one piece. I did.
*There was the one when my mother had made a snifter of martinis for a before-dinner drinkie-poo. She had three on an empty stomach, and was so inebriated by dinner time that we weren't sure the meal would make it to the table.
*There was the one when my grandfather had TWO "libations" rather than his normal ONE prior to the meal. He ate heartily, then fell asleep in his recliner. When he woke up, he asked when we would eat the "boid". He apparently didn't remember eating Thanksgiving dinner!
*There was the one when my father went hunting for rabbits on the farm after dinner. He winged one, which ran toward the granary. Dad tried to outrun it, fell on his shotgun, and totally shattered his pinkie finger in the process. (It's a wonder his shotgun didn't go off and blow his brains out!) He came in, showed me the poor finger that he couldn't even hold up straight, broke a clamp-type clothespin to splint his finger...and disappeared. Mom asked, "Where's your dad?" I had no clue. He had driven himself, unannounced, to the ER in town. Mom was furious that he had gone alone without warning. Came home bandaged with the advice to see an orthopedist when they got home to the west suburbs of Chicago a day or two later. He did. The finger required surgery with pins. They kept him overnight. For a pinkie finger! The pins were removed after some healing, but I don't think that finger ever worked properly again. A Thanksgiving to remember!
*There were the ones for which I bought the foods for another family. They were grateful.
*There was the one or two that I shared with friends who had no other place to be. One didn't show up until LONG after the meal was over. I fed him anyway, and was happy to.
*There were the ones that I hosted, desperately trying to get everything done and still warm at the same time. I don't know how my mother did it!
And now, there is this year. I will be eating alone for the first time in my life, but not forgotten. My friend Judy and I are trading foods. We have to celebrate in isolation, due to the pandemic. I will have all of the traditional foods and have plenty of thanks to give to God for my blessings. I know my family is safe, so far. That's all that matters to me, at this point. It makes me sad to have to endure a traditional holiday alone, but I am aware that it is for ALL of us that I do it. May God grant that next Thanksgiving will be a different world, and that I live long enough to see it!
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. Appreciate all you have!
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