Isn’t it funny what sticks in your head sometimes?
You’d think that holiday memories would be comprised of some really Martha Stewart moments of hearth and home. A beautiful centerpiece, an exquisite meal. Perfectly compatible relatives conversing in harmony at the table.
I remember ten years ago when my son was in preschool. He was supposed to be a Pilgrim in the Thanksgiving program. But he didn’t want to be a Pilgrim…he wanted to be a Native American. Who could blame him? The Pilgrims looked all pious and boring and the Pilgrim costume wasn’t nearly as cool as the feathered headdresses the Indians got to wear. He had a meltdown at zero hour and they ended up letting him be an Indian. But he was still so upset the whole time that he fumed and wouldn’t sing any of the songs.
I wrote an essay in second grade: My Thanksgiving Vacation. It was supposed to be a paper outlining what our plans were for the upcoming holiday…and some thankfulness wouldn’t have hurt.
Oh my. It wasn’t true, but you know how you can visit a relative once every three months and you get the same menu? It was usually spaghetti. My family was laughing over that one for years.
Then, of course, there was the Thanksgiving when my mother was sick with the flu. She feverishly directed the cooking of the Thanksgiving dinner from the den sofa. My sister, grandmother, and I laughed hysterically at one cooking disaster after another. Daddy claimed the turkey had two necks (I’m not sure what that was all about.) Too much eating was happening before the food ever got to the table. And my mother couldn’t find her cookware for weeks afterward.
Sometimes holidays get a little crazy. And sometimes they’re not all like a Currier and Ives print. But sometimes the craziness makes for the best memories to share later. And makes the best stories to hand down through the years.
Pretty is as Pretty Dies –Elizabeth Spann Craig
Delicious and Suspicious (May 2010)—Riley Adams
Happy Thanksgiving from the Mystery