Thanksgiving ( Again )

Now it is 2019. We will have Thanksgiving dinner at our house on Thursday. Diane will prepare another feast, and gratefully all our family will be there. Early in the day, I will spend time reliving the special memories of Thanksgivings past. I will definitely enjoy the meal, but mostly I will savor the special time together. And envision Thanksgiving in a future year…maybe 2050…when I hope the families of Emma, Colton, and Camryn will join to celebrate their family history and that through all the years God has been so good to bless us.

This posting is from November, 2017.  Very few subscribers were here to receive it then. To those for whom it is a repeat, I sort of apologize…but to me, this IS Thanksgiving.

THANKSGIVING AT NANNY’S

My grandmother, Nanny, was blind. Not from birth. She lost her sight during a bout with spinal meningitis at age twelve.  Which meant that she knew, for the rest of her life, what the loss of sight had robbed from her.  At home, Nanny knew her way around the house so well that most people, including my wife, could not tell that she was blind when they first saw her in that environment.  Nanny was equally at home at the Coffee Shop/newsstand that she operated for thirty years with Pop, my grandfather.  They had met in high school, at the Tennessee School for the Blind.  Pop could see just enough to drive, but was visually impaired enough to qualify for the School for the Blind.  Not sure how safe that really was, but it worked out ok.

Nanny and Pop in their Coffee shop at Nashville General Hospital …1940’s.

Nanny and Pop during the holidays … 1970’s

As long as I can remember, my favorite holiday has been Thanksgiving. And that holiday always meant Thanksgiving dinner at Nanny’s. All the family would come…all the aunts, uncles, cousins, and various friends. People would start arriving early, some bringing an individual contribution to the feast…Aunt Clara’s relish trays, Aunt Toodle’s green beans (that’s right, Toodle) …but most of the meal was prepared the previous 30 hours or so by Nanny and Pop.

Let your mind imagine the scene in Nanny’s kitchen as she and Pop prepared a full dinner for twenty-five plus people. Preparing turkey, dressing, ham, mashed potatoes, gravy, cranberry sauce, potato salad, mac and cheese, deviled eggs, jam cake, pies, and boiled custard would cause near chaos for anyone.  Now imagine doing it all in absolute darkness. Chaos does not begin to adequately describe that kitchen on Thanksgiving eve.

I loved watching this chaos. I would move in and out of the kitchen, occasionally sitting for a few minutes (not long enough to be asked to actually help) at the oval table pushed against the wall opposite the busy stovetop to observe what I came to recognize as love in action.  Were there ever any disagreements? Yes there were. Did Nanny ever fuss at Pop for not doing something just right?  Oh, yes…many times I heard: ” now, Henry…”.    Was gravy ever spilt?  Did the jam cake layer ever collapse?  Did the boiled custard ever cook too long?  For sure. But, did I ever hear Pop really get angry or lose his temper with Nanny? No. Never.

Everything always came together just in time for an incredibly delicious meal.

I can still remember the first time I was allowed to sit in the kitchen at the adult table. I loved listening to the conversations of the grown ups (except for the time between ages fifteen and twenty-three or so, when I was smarter than them). After the big dinner, if the weather was nice, we would throw the football and then watch the football games on television. Some would drift off; and you might catch an uncle somewhere in a short nap, snoring.

Around four o’clock the women would move to the room with the piano. Mother would be required to play.  They all joined in singing lots of hymns…creating a sound that wasn’t great…but wasn’t really too bad either. I never joined the room in singing, but always spent time close enough to listen to both the singing and the comments between songs.

Between six and six-thirty, those still around would pull out the ham and turkey and make sandwiches to finish off the day. I have no idea how I or any of the others could eat again so soon after eating so much just hours before.  Then everyone would peel off to go their separate homes.  And the family gathering was adjourned until we would meet again on Christmas Day at Aunt Clara’s and on New Year’s Day at Toodle’s house.

Nanny and Pop held Thanksgiving dinners all those years, not because it was a national holiday, but because their faith was real and giving thanks to God in front of their family was important to them. They did it to share a special time with the meaningful people in their lives; and because they loved doing it, despite all the problems they faced in its preparation.

But…

Did they know that they were creating memories that would shape a grandson’s understanding and enjoyment of life for all his lifetime?

Did Pop know that the way he treated Nanny during the preparation of those Thanksgiving dinners would be model behavior that would shape the way his grandson would strive to love and treat his own wife through forty-five years of marriage?

Did Nanny know that the words of hymns she sang at four o’clock on Thanksgiving Day would often come back to her grandson during times he was seeking meaning for his own life?

I don’t really know what Nanny and Pop knew; or what they saw happening as they went about those activities that for me are now remembered as sacred rituals. But I know their faith, and what I think they believed is this:

“so we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen; since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” 2 Corinthians 4:18

What are you doing today?  Who might be watching, interpreting, and incorporating memories of what you do?  Memories which could have consequences that will last forever?   November 2017

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