Pamela
It's the (2nd) Most
Wonderful Time of the Year
Wonderful Time of the Year
When I was a child, Thanksgiving was a time of abundant food, favorite television programs and family. While I came from a large family of five children and two adults, we were not always living at home at the same time. My oldest brother joined the Air Force when I was young, then moved away from home. My second oldest brother was living away from home, and then was drafted to serve in Vietnam. I was the youngest, so I lived at home for a long time.
On Thanksgiving morning, my second youngest sibling and I got up early to watch the Macy’s Parade. My sister was not that interested. She was probably in her room reading a teen magazine. Mom, who was an excellent cook, prepared a feast which consisted of traditional home-cooked Thanksgiving fare. After a while, she called me into the kitchen to help out. It was my job to chop up the vegetables and the giblets that she had boiled. She then mixed the chopped heart, neck meat and liver into the stuffing. The stuffing required bread cubes, celery, onion, egg, chicken broth, mushroom soup, butter and spices. I never liked giblet stuffing, but my Dad did. The only thing I hated more than liver was Brains and Scrambled Eggs which my Dad loved. I had to wash the dishes after he finished eating it.
When I was done helping Mom prepare the stuffing, Dad packed it in the turkey and sewed it up. I returned to watching the Macy’s Parade. Santa Claus was in New York visiting Macy’s and would soon be coming to a town near you. In reality, I had abandoned my belief in the man in the red suit. But I enjoyed watching him waving, smiling, and ho-ho-ho-ing his way down Broadway. His appearance promised that “The Most Wonderful Time of the Year” was upon us. I knew Mom was already shopping the Sears catalog, although I feigned ignorance.
After the turkey was put in the oven, Mom turned her attention to all the other food dishes that needed to be made. I helped her make the Deviled Eggs I didn’t know what the devil had to do with it, to me they were heavenly. Her recipe was simpler than most; no mustard, no cheese, lots of bacon, add Miracle Whip. But variations can be good. I wouldn’t mind having one right now. Mom prepared Sour Cream Lettuce, Jell-O, vegetables, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes with marshmallows on top, cranberry sauce, butter with Pillsbury Crescent Rolls (yes butter comes first), condiments-especially black olives, green-bean casserole, lots of gravy, apple, cherry and pumpkin pie with whipped cream and more.
As Mom was slaving over a hot stove, my brother and I were debating over what television fare to partake in. Turkey was wonderful to eat, but it took too long to cook. Every year on Thanksgiving, the networks would play two children’s movies Gulliver's Travels (1939) and Alice in Wonderland (1951). Neither my brother nor I ever sat still long enough to watch either movie in entirety. The smell of all that good food cooking was enough to distract even one engaged in a committed religious fast; which of course, we were not. In fact, it was not uncommon to distract my Mother with repeated supplications of, “Is it done yet?”
At very long last, my Mother summoned my Father to carve the turkey. Even Pater, my Schnauzer, was one lucky dog. Mom gave him a bowl of turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy. It was gone in 30 seconds. As Dad carved the turkey, I followed my pre-assigned marching orders to set the dining room table with the real china and real silverware from the china cabinet. The silverware was to be placed on cloth napkins on the fancy tablecloth. The dishes and silverware were already pre-washed and ready to be placed in their assigned spots. We gathered around the dining room table and Mom lit the candles, increasing our excitement. For our once a year ritual, Dad prayed a Thanksgiving prayer. Then he poured wine in everyone’s glass and we toasted. I didn’t like wine in those days, but I enjoyed the toasting part. Just as cooking is both a science and an art, eating is both a science and an art. Mashed potatoes, for example, required extreme care as I turned my scoop into Crater Lake and filled it with gravy. If you breached the walls of the crater, your gravy would flow over all of the other foods, which could be undesirable. My brother and I compared and competed in agility as we placed black olives on the end of each finger. This continued until Mom confiscated the black olives. After breaching the walls of Crater Lake often, I determined that turkey gravy actually goes pretty well with most Thanksgiving foods; it just messes up your rolls and melts your Jell-O. We always had pie at the end. My brother and I discovered that there’s a lot of whipped cream in a can…until it’s all gone. Just like football, Mom was quite good at intercepting and causing a change of possession for those foods threatened with extinction. When we were done eating, we were stuffed. It was time for my Dad to watch football. For me, it was time to put the leftovers away and wash the dishes.
Thanksgiving meant watching cartoons. But over the years, my understanding of Thanksgiving matured and metamorphosed from Disney…
On Thanksgiving morning, my second youngest sibling and I got up early to watch the Macy’s Parade. My sister was not that interested. She was probably in her room reading a teen magazine. Mom, who was an excellent cook, prepared a feast which consisted of traditional home-cooked Thanksgiving fare. After a while, she called me into the kitchen to help out. It was my job to chop up the vegetables and the giblets that she had boiled. She then mixed the chopped heart, neck meat and liver into the stuffing. The stuffing required bread cubes, celery, onion, egg, chicken broth, mushroom soup, butter and spices. I never liked giblet stuffing, but my Dad did. The only thing I hated more than liver was Brains and Scrambled Eggs which my Dad loved. I had to wash the dishes after he finished eating it.
When I was done helping Mom prepare the stuffing, Dad packed it in the turkey and sewed it up. I returned to watching the Macy’s Parade. Santa Claus was in New York visiting Macy’s and would soon be coming to a town near you. In reality, I had abandoned my belief in the man in the red suit. But I enjoyed watching him waving, smiling, and ho-ho-ho-ing his way down Broadway. His appearance promised that “The Most Wonderful Time of the Year” was upon us. I knew Mom was already shopping the Sears catalog, although I feigned ignorance.
After the turkey was put in the oven, Mom turned her attention to all the other food dishes that needed to be made. I helped her make the Deviled Eggs I didn’t know what the devil had to do with it, to me they were heavenly. Her recipe was simpler than most; no mustard, no cheese, lots of bacon, add Miracle Whip. But variations can be good. I wouldn’t mind having one right now. Mom prepared Sour Cream Lettuce, Jell-O, vegetables, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes with marshmallows on top, cranberry sauce, butter with Pillsbury Crescent Rolls (yes butter comes first), condiments-especially black olives, green-bean casserole, lots of gravy, apple, cherry and pumpkin pie with whipped cream and more.
As Mom was slaving over a hot stove, my brother and I were debating over what television fare to partake in. Turkey was wonderful to eat, but it took too long to cook. Every year on Thanksgiving, the networks would play two children’s movies Gulliver's Travels (1939) and Alice in Wonderland (1951). Neither my brother nor I ever sat still long enough to watch either movie in entirety. The smell of all that good food cooking was enough to distract even one engaged in a committed religious fast; which of course, we were not. In fact, it was not uncommon to distract my Mother with repeated supplications of, “Is it done yet?”
At very long last, my Mother summoned my Father to carve the turkey. Even Pater, my Schnauzer, was one lucky dog. Mom gave him a bowl of turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy. It was gone in 30 seconds. As Dad carved the turkey, I followed my pre-assigned marching orders to set the dining room table with the real china and real silverware from the china cabinet. The silverware was to be placed on cloth napkins on the fancy tablecloth. The dishes and silverware were already pre-washed and ready to be placed in their assigned spots. We gathered around the dining room table and Mom lit the candles, increasing our excitement. For our once a year ritual, Dad prayed a Thanksgiving prayer. Then he poured wine in everyone’s glass and we toasted. I didn’t like wine in those days, but I enjoyed the toasting part. Just as cooking is both a science and an art, eating is both a science and an art. Mashed potatoes, for example, required extreme care as I turned my scoop into Crater Lake and filled it with gravy. If you breached the walls of the crater, your gravy would flow over all of the other foods, which could be undesirable. My brother and I compared and competed in agility as we placed black olives on the end of each finger. This continued until Mom confiscated the black olives. After breaching the walls of Crater Lake often, I determined that turkey gravy actually goes pretty well with most Thanksgiving foods; it just messes up your rolls and melts your Jell-O. We always had pie at the end. My brother and I discovered that there’s a lot of whipped cream in a can…until it’s all gone. Just like football, Mom was quite good at intercepting and causing a change of possession for those foods threatened with extinction. When we were done eating, we were stuffed. It was time for my Dad to watch football. For me, it was time to put the leftovers away and wash the dishes.
Thanksgiving meant watching cartoons. But over the years, my understanding of Thanksgiving matured and metamorphosed from Disney…
to the Pilgrims...
The First Thanksgiving
Jean Leon Gerome Ferris
The First Thanksgiving at Plymouth
Jennie A. Brownscombe
to the (relatively) modern age.
Freedom from Want
Norman Rockwell
I realized that Mom did a tremendous amount of work to put all that wonderful food on the table. Thanksgiving was aptly named considering all of the abundant food and other benefits we have. The Plymouth Colony Pilgrims arrived here on the Mayflower seeking religious freedom. Out of the original 103 Pilgrim immigrants, 51 died over the first winter. Yet with the help of their Indian friends, hard work and their Christian faith, the colony survived. In the fall of 1621, those colonists celebrated their health, abundance and plentiful harvest on the first Thanksgiving Day. Today, with family and friends, with different foods and in many different ways we also celebrate Thanksgiving.
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