Thanksgiving is a little like Christmas. It's not so much about the holiday as it is surviving long enough to enjoy them. I had only one thing to do yesterday, and that was wait to be taken for a ride to Cincinnati for the big day. The working people of the family had to wait till today. A couple of my kids kidnapped me and took me to the Silver Memories Rest Home to try out the bathtub. I must admit it was comfy, but when I insisted on getting undressed and trying it out for real, they whisked me out of there.
So I came to my daughter's to help with the preparations for today.
Holiday meals are odd. We get out the best china and tablecloths and sit on rickety folding chairs that were salvaged from The Titanic. Ours still have spaghetti sauce and gravy stuck to them from our first Thanksgiving.
We always forget to find the turkey platter beforehand, and in a panic, serve the turkey on a black cookie sheet with 40 years of burned on cookie residue.
Still, it's nice that folks try to make the day special, and my daughter is no exception. What yesterday was the sunporch is today the "beverage center." as I discovered when I went looking for the coffee pot this morning.
There's a fuzzy photo in this blog, and I selected it to show you the famous hand-crocheted tablecloth I spoke of yesterday, which my mother managed to feature in my sister's wedding photo. It doesn't matter if you can't see the faces, and you certainly don't care who these people are, but I draw your attention to
a certain detail. Like her meticulous attention to details for holiday meals, my mother thought she had this one in the bag. But please notice the bride's feet and her little sister's feet. They're hard to miss under that magnificent tablecloth.
It makes me realize that the best memories are often goof-ups and mistakes, and I'm thankful for a family that's given me plenty of a lifetime supply of memories.
Happy Thanksgiving!
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