THANKSGIVING MUSINGS

The day before the holiday I took a few minutes on Facebook to wish all of my friends a very Happy Thanksgiving.  Adding a short note of greeting I mentioned that even though we are all grateful for our blessings on a daily basis, Thanksgiving was a special day to review the year and once again be abundantly grateful.  Sounding redundant, I wrote that this day was the Super Bowl of gratitude.

Granddaughter Marisol quickly wrote back saying she was going to use that.  Continuing she told me about talking with someone who was basically a TG-Day Scrooge.  He all but grumbled, “Bah-Humbug,” about the holiday.  She was pleased with the idea of a Super Bowl of gratitude, and together we wondered about the naysayers of Thanksgiving?  We can’t call them Scrooge, nor can we add the “Bah-Humbug,” that’s already in use for Christmas  grouches.  We agreed that they would become just plain Old Turkeys — Tough Old Turkeys.   Later, thinking further ahead, but I’ll run it by Mari, instead of “Bah-Humbug,” how about using, “Bah-giblets.”  It flows nicely and a lot of Thanksgiving fans would like that one, especially grandson Sean who despises giblets.  He cooks them and then unceremoniously gives them to the dog.  She is overjoyed.

Our daughter Julie surprised me by coming to our house in the morning with wonderful vegetables to cook.  I thought her last years effort was over the top, but this year her contribution was fabulous: sliced and roasted brussel sprouts, roasted sweet potatoes, and green beans flavored with sage and butter.  (She believes roasting makes everything better.)   The day was half over when she finished with just enough time left to rush away picking up husband Tim for dinner with his parents.  “It’s all ready — just reheat and serve,” she instructed before leaving, and then she gave me a long, hard hug – half for me and half for Ken.  We’re never sure how receptive he is to hugs and didn’t want to change his good mood with an unwanted touch.  A wave and “Goodbye, Dad,” was sufficient.

Turkey day arrived at 12:01 p.m., November 25; an ordinary day, but being Thanksgiving it’s never ordinary especially when celebrating a holiday with a seriously ill family member.  Admittedly, it can be difficult.  However, the wonderful thing about our kids, their spouses and their kids is their acceptance of Ken, his Alzheimer’s and dealing with it in a matter-of-fact way.  Our grown progeny talk to Ken as if his mind understands their conversation, and that’s good – and appreciated – especially by me. It all feels so normal, and he feels involved even though his contribution to what is being said makes no sense to others.  They have learned to use some of my favorite key words and phrases such as: “Really?” “Is that right.”  “I didn’t know that.”  “I’m not sure,” in addition to a dozen other forms of reply to their father and/or grandfather who lives on another level of existence which doesn’t share our reality.

The afternoon and early evening was filled with good food, good company and lots of loving phone calls from those who couldn’t be with us.  Granddaughter Kristina, who lives here decided to spend the holiday with her mom and dad in Ogden.  She and significant other Chris drove the 800 miles, and then she called to wish us a happy holiday, as did other grandchildren and sons far away.

It was cold today.  I remember many years when we had the front door open because it was so warm, but not today.  After dinner Keith started a fire, we served pies and whipped cream and everyone helped themselves.  Most of the younger ones passed up the pies in favor of ice cream, and Ken felt tired preferring to go to bed rather than have even a dish of ice cream.  Tomorrow he can have his choice.

Have you ever noticed when company leaves it sounds like a swarm of bees?  They often leave in a mass – a tight group – making  buzzing sounds with everyone talking at once.  Adults are still finishing their conversation, saying goodbye, a frantic realization and quick search for a child’s missing shoe — it’s found — gathering coats, purses, dishes, hugs and kisses, waves from the porch, and then silence.

Pulling a rocking chair closer to the fire I put my feet up on the hearth and watch the flames dance in the grate.   A perfect time to reflect on the day, the year and count my blessings. It had been a good Thanksgiving and a good day for Ken. I am grateful.

We have come such a long way from those long-ago Thanksgiving days at the little farm of my parents in Sonoma County.  How the years have piled up bringing constant change to our lives; taking away our older dear ones and birthing new life for us to love and watch grow.  I sat there making a study of the dying embers feeling just a little melancholy, and then the phone rang; a bit late, but not for a holiday.  It was Debbie calling from Ogden.  “I just wanted to wish you and dad a Happy Thanksgiving,” she said.  The melancholy vanished with her hello.  I suppose I needed one more slice of family to complete the holiday.

We talked for a while comparing dinners and guests, our family here and most of her family there.  The debate over using the good dishes of our shared tradition or paper plates as some of the younger generation would prefer.  Makes life easier is their claim.  Deb and I laughed realizing that even the utensils we use for eating are part of someone’s tradition.  And as previously stated we must respect the traditions of others, especially the coming generations.  So we wonder as Thanksgiving 2010 fades into history, who, in the future, will be interested in or even want our good dinnerware and all of those bone china tea cups?

Originally posted 2010-11-28 08:15:53.

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