In keeping with the food theme of Scrumptious Sundays, but also in view of the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday, here is a remembrance of turkey days past...
As a kid, Thanksgivings were generally celebrated with a long car trip to visit my grandparents, where we would spend the long weekend dreaming up our elaborate Christmas wish lists, visiting with other relatives, maybe making a bowling outing and spending Sunday morning in the tiny small-town church, which would send a postcard to my own Sunday School superintendent so that the visit would "count" toward a perfect attendance pin at the end of the year.
Dinners were prepared by my Grandmother and Mother, with other relatives pitching in. Turkeys were basted, stuffing made, the good china used and small hands batted away after grabbing "samples." One year my Grandparents had remodeled their kitchen, and a fizzed-up bottle of pink champagne was uncorked a bit too suddenly, leaving a dark spot on the fresh white ceiling for years to come.
The women dressed in smart 1960s skirts and stockings for the occasion, protecting their "good" clothes with fabric aprons, and the men wore sweaters over their dress shirts.
We often brought my Great-Grandmother "home" from the nursing home for the holiday meal, delivering her back to her room that evening.
The two traditions that are still discussed over the Thanksgiving table belong to my Great-Aunt Ruth. The first tradition is to bring something for the meal. In Aunt Ruth's case, a canned good that would go unopened so that she could take it home again. "Isn't it a shame? We forgot to open this can of olives." Or baked beans. Or some other staple that either duplicated what my Grandmother had already prepared, or clearly didn't go with a Thanksgiving turkey. The second tradition is to see who can excuse themselves to the rest room after dinner, not to reappear until after the last dish is dried and put away. "Pulling an Aunt Ruth," we call it.
We loved Aunt Ruth and her sense of fun, the games she played and the gum she offered. But these two quirks still make us smile at Thanksgiving dinner. Which will be served this year at my house, on my parents' dining table and using my Grandmother's silver. Bring a canned good.
(This post was written for Parent Bloggers Network as part of a sweepstakes sponsored by Butterball. Please check out http://www.butterball.com and http://blog.parentbloggers.com.)
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