November 23, 2015
That Was a Day to Remember (or Perhaps Forget?)

Well it's here again:  that day when folks (most of them) have a holiday break from the real world and gather together to observe and carry on traditions as old as time.  Perhaps it's a good thing that the calendar directs us to stop, look and listen, for it forces us to reflect for at least a day upon what we should be thinking about every other day of the year.

The debate has heated in recent years as to whether the commercialism should ease off or halt for at least a moment, allowing for those in the service industry to gobble down a bite or two of mashed potatoes and dressing before attending to the doting public.  Whatever you choose to embrace, try to remember that there are blessings beyond belief everywhere you turn.  And take a moment this Thanksgiving to say a heartfelt "thanks" for all that we have been given.

Of course the holiday is steeped in tradition and it is the time to reflect on those times gone by and those with which we have shared so much.  Being raised in a family of numerous aunts and uncles  and dozens of cousins, those gatherings remain dear and near to my heart.  But sometimes it's the stories told that are most cherished.  

Like the story of the time my father brought his lovely intended (my mother) to his family's Thanksgiving for the very first time.  They were achingly young and in love and Dad, eager to share the wonderful woman who would one day become my mother, with his entire family, invited her to his family's Thanksgiving dinner.

A Hudson feast was one of remarkable proportions with nothing spared.  The family may have lived frugally 364 days of the year, but on Thanksgiving, all the stops were pulled out.  Mind you, this was a family that loved a feast and knew how to put it away.  Mom, raised a farm girl and no stranger to the rough and tumble, had nevertheless a gentile air about her and was determined to present the very finest impression imaginable to the family of her true love.

And so she braved with a smile on her face meeting the brothers and the uncles and mother and father that first Thanksgiving they were together.  According to legend, all seemed to be going rather well through the meal with plenty of chatter and chewing. And then dessert was served.  The traditional pumpkin pie was brought on board  and and passed around the table. (Traditionally, the pieces of pie were distributed from one to the other around the table until all had been served).  

Following closely behind was something new to a Hudson Thanksgiving dinner:  canned Ready Whip.  In his defense, it was a new fangled device and I'm sure my grandfather didn't really know quite how to operate it.  Needless to say, just as he attempted to slather the stuff onto his slice of pie, something went awry and mom was left with a generous coating of white sticky whipped cream all over her lovely new angora sweater.  

I'm not quite sure what happened from there - for some reason no one has quite elaborated on that all these years. I don't think it was a case of censorship but rather something the whole family just chose to forget.  But I'm sure the desserts were all enjoyed and  finished and dishes gathered and washed.  And mom and dad went on to marry and enjoy more than 65 years of wedded bliss together (and counting).  But hearkening back to that very first encounter, one wonders just what she was thinking about when she said "yes" to dad's proposal.

Other Thanksgivings will forever be immortalized in my memory, such as the year that we planned on joining the family, a state away, and were thwarted by a last minute Minnesota blizzard.  The hamburger in the freezer came in handy that time when mom made her delicious Thanksgiving meatloaf.  I don't remember what we did with the 75 place setting/nut cups that mom had painstakingly constructed for the holiday gathering.

Or the year I waited patiently for son #1 to arrive.  He was due on Thanksgiving day but chose to hold off a week before making his appearance.  And there was the time that I hosted my family and friends for the feast at my house.  It was a true joy to cook for my loved ones and I hope I get the chance to do that again one of these days.  

When we were kids and the family was not traveling to the join the rest of the family's gathering, we most generally had a guest or two, or three at our Thanksgiving feasts.  In fact, there is not one recollection when we didn't have several special "guests" at our table for the holiday. One year it was a Greek college school mate of my sister's.  Another year, a young couple who couldn't get home to their family's celebration.  Yet another, dear friends who served as substitute grandparents to us kids. They were all family to us and together we gave thanks and shared a meal. 

There was always room for just one more at our table and that is a philosophy I heartily embrace.   I may not have it all but I can share what I have. And though my folks have never served canned Ready Whip at their table since that fateful day, I myself keep a can in the refrigerator at all times just in case the need arises for a little levity now and then.