Musings from the Ozone

Today was Thanksgiving day.  I was standing at my kitchen sink, beginning the job of peeling a large bag of potatoes, when suddenly a flash back scene came before me.  It was a vision of my own mother, years ago, as she was trying to prepare a Thanksgiving meal for our enlarged family of 10 adults and 9 grandchildren.   What I did not know about her then would fill a book, considering how 'enlarged' my own brain and emotions have grown since some 35+ years have gone by.  

Mother tired out easily, or so I thought.  Now, I realize that she was tired with reason.  She had gotten up at 4 AM, to put the huge turkey in the oven.  Days before that, she had made 5 or 6 pumpkin pies from scratch, baked her yellow cake with fudge frosting and made her famous cranberry relish.  The actual day of Thanksgiving was a day of constant standing over the stove, stirring the gravy, timing the whole meal to come together at the exact moment and then hopefully, everyone would come and sit at the perfectly  lovely table, dressed out to perfection and all at the same precise time.  No one was to see any of the little moments of aggravations behind this facade of perfection.  There were always some gripes beneath the lovely  scene.   I remember one year, it was a wintery Thanksgiving day.  The gang of male grandkids, at an average age of 6, wanted to play in the snow before dinner.  Not a problem, or was it?  Unfortunately, the back door was right off the kitchen, and the little feet, clad with boots and snow, began a trek in and out through the house;  they were becoming an aggravation that  cause any "clean floor-loving mom' to want to pull her hair out!  The kids were cold.  Then they would warm up and want to go out again, build a snow man, or throw some more snowballs!  Where were their parents?  Well, to tell the truth, all the adults were trying to stay out of the way of the cook, and were engrossed in some philosophical debates in the living room, or dining room.  The talk would be very animated, and generally humorous in nature.  That is, until they would feel the temperature of the  cook in the kitchen raise higher than the temperature of the furnace.  Would someone please get those grandkids to stay in or out of the house--and please, please make them quit tracking in the snow through the kitchen?! 

Humbly and ashamedly, we young mothers would scold the kids, and force them to go around to the front door, or just come in and sit down on the only chairs left to the kids---the stairs.  The kids were really great at inventing games to play, thankfully.  They would appoint one child to be a preacher, another child would be the song leader, and then the littler ones would be the members of the church.  Good times would be held on those stair-step church houses.  There were several baptismals and sinners that repented!  How those kids could play and have such a good time was amazing!  There was no family room.  There was no finished basement where the kids could play.   There was no rec room.   In fact, the one thing missing in that small house was more room!  Never mind, as the kids had wonderful imaginations, and could find something fun to do, regardless of frustrated parents.

But, back to the cook in the kitchen.  In my present day Thanksgiving meal preparation, I realized that I have not cut back on the food outlay like my mother always prepared-- if anything, I had added some more items to the traditional meal.  But, this year, and truthfully, every year since my mother quit preparing a Thanksgiving meal, I have always  felt that something was lacking in my Thanksgiving meal, and I would never get it right, I feared.  My mother managed, through her method of making us all feel guilty, or ashamed of ourselves, or whatever special trick she used,  managed to get us all to be dressed nicely for the occasion and everything was always served  in the silver lidded serving dishes.   Never once did we think of her style as being pretentious--she did not own the world's best of anything, but she did use the best that she owned for this special occasion.   She always made us feel like she wanted us to be home for Thanksgiving and as we matured, bringing even more children to her house over the years, she acted so delighted to see us all come home.  She cooked a meal with love and took days of preparation.  Maybe that is the part I cannot succeed in  mimicking?  I have never been sure of whether my children would even show up for Thanksgiving day or not, since they have all lived far from home for a number of years.  That feeling of having the old homestead tradition seems to have gone with the wind in our family.  Or, maybe I am just being whimsical and nostalgic about my own upbringing?   I may feel that everyone going home to mother and dad's was  just the 'proper' way to have Thanksgiving!  Perhaps I haven't truly been able to cope with the distances I have to go to be with my far-flung family?  Last year, my husband and I spent Thanksgiving in China with my son, wife and new granddaughter.  We couldn't even find a restaurant serving a Thanksgiving turkey over there!   I am just thrilled that at least two of our children and her family were able to be here this year! 

At my mother's house, the strain of the day would start showing up as soon as the turkey was placed on the table.  We would all eat until we were groaning, of course, but just looking at all those dishes, we knew it  would require some dishwashers and kitchen helpers.  This was one part of the meal that we could not expect our mother to take part of.  She would help put the food away, and then head for her bedroom to take a nap, while we adult-young mothers would do our part and wash the many dishes, pots and pans.  Our oldest sister loved to talk, and would get caught up in the talk with the men-folk instead of helping clean up, while my younger sister and I groused and complained, but went ahead and did the dishes.  Then one day, our younger brother got married and he married a gal who was totally efficient and helpful!  Things changed from that Thanksgiving on.  We had fun, laughed while we worked, and learned many things about each other.  That was the beginning of the true 'adulthood' of our generation.  Thanksgiving had real meaning to me from that day on.  Up to that time, I had seen it as a day when my mother spread out the food, and we family members enjoyed eating it.  I hadn't seen it for more than a day to be thankful for  food.  I had not enjoyed cleaning up the kitchen, as I was struggling with young children too, who were always in the way and underfoot.  But, after that change of venue; a new soul helping us in the kitchen, going about the work with a purpose and energy,  I suddenly saw the light!  I began looking at it with a new mindset!  Why should we get worn out and grouchy preparing a meal for our loved ones?  Why should we resent the preparation and work that brings all our hearts and souls together for a day out of the year?  Of course, we do not like to do all the work alone, and all the work should never fall on just one person.  We changed courses after that special Thanksgiving.   As young adults, we began taking all the desserts for mother's  Thanksgiving meal and we tried  to lighten the load on my mother.  We cleaned the kitchen up, and also cleaned up everything  from the second round of snacking before leaving her house.

The saddest part of those wonderful festive days of Thanksgiving was leaving my parents house to drive our many miles home.  For a few years we lived only an hour from home.  Then we moved to another state and had to drive 5 hours to get home.  The drive to her house was a joyful time;  anxious to see mother, dad, brothers and sisters, while the time of leaving was always sad, as we realized that special events with our whole  family did not come that often after we each had families of our own.

So tonight, as I write this, another Thanksgiving day has finished.  The hours I spent  cooking were fun, because I am not an amateur cook anymore and can time a meal almost as closely as my mother did.  The fact that I stayed on with the clean up, was only because there were just 2 of us there to clean.  Never mind.  My table only had only 8 people compared to my mother's 19, but as I stopped and reflected over her ability to cook such a huge meal, and do it so magnificently, I feel humbled.  I also, paradoxically, feel proud that I had such a mother.  Her love is stretching down through the years to her great grandchildren through my heart.  I give thanks for her.  I give thanks for the special day to celebrate family time.  I give thanks for a God that has given us so much!