A Year of Blogging: November 24, 2011

In 2011, November 24 was the fourth Thursday in November. That means it was Thanksgiving. Traditionally, it was a day to give thanks. The feast celebrated the harvest and gave thanks to God for another good year. Mom and Dad tell the story that when they were dating and were first married, they had to eat two Thanksgiving meals. First they went to Dad's family for dinner at 1pm. Then it was back over the mountain to Mom's parents for dinner at 3pm. They said you had to eat your fill at both places, or risk upsetting one or the other mothers. When we were children, we alternated having Thanksgiving at home and at my Grandma Primeau's. One year we would have dinner at home, and the next year we had dinner at Grandma's. Dinner at Grandma's was chaotic. The most memorable dinner though happened when I was about 13. I asked my parents for clarification, to find out if all of these memories happened at the same dinner. They both assured me that yes, it was the same dinner. My father is one of 8 children. There were 15 grandchildren, so this particular year the grandchildren ranged in age from 18 to 2. My grandparents have a very small house. The house is smaller with 32 people filling it! Grandpa had a farmer friend raise a special turkey for him. The turkey was 42 lbs. Seriously! That was the unstuffed weight. They had to build a special oven rack for the turkey. One of my uncle's is a lineman for the power company, so he brought some of the gloves they use. It took my father and his three brothers to lift this turkey in and out of the oven each time it needed to be basted. Grandma insisted on stuffing the turkey, so it was even heavier. Grandma & Grandpa have a double kitchen. The cabinets and appliances are in one side, with a table in the middle. The other section, which you could probably call the dining room, also has a table. It is open between the two rooms, giving the impression of one giant room. In the dining room, the tables would be placed horizontally across the room, which allowed you to get three tables in from the door to the other end of the room- of course, once you found your seat you were stuck there until everyone else got up. When the food was set around on all the tables and we sat down to eat, the meal was disappointing. Grandma, like her mother before her, had no sense of smell, so she burnt everything. The gravy was the consistency of roofing tar. When you put a fork in a sweet potato to bring it to your plate, a spout of water came out of the potato. And the turkey- it was so terribly dry. Add to this mix some alcohol, and it was an unpleasant experience. I usually took a book to read. I was painfully shy, and the whole family together terrified me. I sat in the corner of one of the couches, reading my book, and trying my best to blend into the 1970's floral pattern. This year, I had left my book in the car. I went out to get it, and the quiet once I got out of the house slapped me in the face. It was such a stark contrast to what was going on inside that house. Grandma and Grandpa kind of live in the middle of nowhere. You could hear every last sound of nature outside, and you could hear nothing. It was the kind of quiet that makes your ears hurt. It was so welcoming, I sat in the car reading my book. I actually fell asleep. It was so chaotic in the house that my mom didn't realize I was gone for a couple of hours. Once she finished washing the dishes, she asked my sister where I was. Laura said 'she's in the car reading'. That was one of the last times Grandma hosted Thanksgiving. I have many wonderful memories of Thanksgiving with my parents, but the Thanksgiving of the giant turkey was the most memorable!