A Day of Thanks

                     A Day of Thanks


     Another Thanksgiving Day is about over - the dishes are washing, the leftovers are stored in containers ready to be consumed again and again. The house is quiet as the kids have gone back to their homes, the sky darkens as the sun settles low in the western sky.   Linda and I now have a new group of memories stored away, ready to be cherished on a moments notice.
     Thinking back this must be how it was all those years ago when I was a kid. The family gathering was always looked upon with an air of excitement, at least for us kids.  Getting everyone dressed in our finery, preparing the covered dishes for transport and then the long drive to Grandpa's house.  The first stop was Grandpa Riggan then later in the day to Grandpa Wade.
     The earlier years were great in that we kids looked forward with great anticipation to seeing cousins, aunts and uncles. We could run around screaming and yelling like little banshee's and all the threats of getting a whipping if we didn't calm down were ignored.
     At Grandpa Riggan's the food was cooked in iron skillets on a wood burning stove.  The biscuits were kneaded and rolled out by hand then placed in a windowless oven, a glance at the clock on the wall sufficed as a timer.  I can't remember that we had turkey every year, most likely it was a couple of chickens from Granny's flock, breaded and pan fried in lard. There were casseroles of all kinds, homemade stuffing and gravy followed by apple and pecan pie.   Even a picky eater like me found enough to eat that my belly would bulge to bursting.
     During the preparations the women folk converged on the kitchen area reminiscing old times and gossiping about the new. The men gathered on the front porch or in front of the fireplace if the weather was cold.  They talked of friends they had seen lately, the political climate as they saw it and occasionally swatted a kid on the butt for being to rowdy. Grandpa being hard of hearing would sit and puff on his corn cob pipe, every now and then he would join in the conversation but generally he was a man of few words.
     Later in the afternoon we loaded up and like the song says we went over the river and thru the woods to Grandpa Wade's house. By the time we got there dinner was over only leftovers sitting on the table, covered with napkins and dishcloths, remained. With our belly's still bulging we managed to find room for more, nobody went to Granny Wade's house and not eat.  Grandpa and Uncles Harold, AJ and Paul would be watching a ball game of some kind on TV or at least be talking about sports. Some time as the day wore on you could find Grandpa sitting in that big oak rocker of his with his eyes closed.  All of the commotion around him failed to wake him but change the channel from the ball game and he came alive.  The kitchen and dinning room was alive with the laughter of Granny and her daughters.
     Since Linda and I have been married most of our Thanksgiving Days have been spent with just us and the kids and sometimes friends.  Each providing it's own set of memories.  Today was not much different than others of the past.  Clay and Maggie were here as were Danny, Marie and MJ. Linda says it is strange to say Uncle Clay after all of these years of simply calling him Clay.  She may be on to something, but when I put MJ in his arms he reminds me of my brother Clint and how much alike they are.  In that respect Uncle fits him just fine.
     We spent the afternoon talking of all kinds of things, the past, the future, how's the job going, how quickly MJ is growing. We gathered at the table to eat and continue the conversation. MJ was in her highchair being fed bits of chicken by her Dad.  She quickly became the object of our attention as she would hand feed some of her food to Lizzy, the dog, though some of the food was only licked by Lizzy and quickly pulled away to be stuffed into MJ's mouth, MJ thought it was great fun. Once it was determined that MJ was not interested in chicken or mashed potatoes her Dad warmed a bottle of milk.
     Grandma does a great job of spoon-feeding MJ but I like to feed her the bottle.  That way I get to hold her.  After her bottle we had to show Dad MJ's new thing she learned.  I have taught her what is inside the cookie jar and when I lean in with her in my arms she reaches out and grabs a cookie.  Well today she got those tiny fingers around two chocolate chip cookies.  I sat down at the table with MJ on my leg and we all watched as she put the cookie into her mouth and was able to get her two teeth to break off a piece.  If I opened my mouth she would thrust her cookie filled hand towards my mouth but all I got was a finger covered in slobber and wet cookie crumbs.   Even so, it was delicious and MJ thought it was funny.
     After the cookie it was nap time and like any little one she sometimes puts up a little fuss but Grandpa has the distinction of being the only one to get her down for her nap.  I hold her against my shoulder and sway from side to side humming off key some melody of which the words escape me and it is not long till she goes limp and I lay her on the couch.  I'm not what you would call a religious person but if ever angels do come down to earth they must do so in the form of a sleeping baby.
     I am thankful for my brothers and sister, without them my memories would be less enjoyable.  I am thankful for my sons and their families for they have made me proud.  I am thankful for my life with Linda, without her life would have no meaning . This was MJ's first Thanksgiving and mine as a Grandpa  and I am thankful to have her in my life.  At eleven months old she probably won't remember a thing about this day but I will hold these memories into eternity.