Thanksgiving 1978
An apologetically nostalgic look back in time
My fondest memories of my childhood Thanksgivings took place at our house in Mentor, Ohio. It was an old, white colonial-style home with black shutters and two giant trees that stood, like sentinels, in the front yard. The house’s claim to fame was that it once belonged to President Garfield’s great-grandson.
Thanksgiving always took place in the formal dining room, with its creamy damask wallpaper, built-in china cabinets, and a large, crystal chandelier glittering over a table carefully set by my mother. Her Avon, red, glass plates and goblets and the white, wedding china she collected piece by piece from the grocery store, took on a new elegance in that beautiful room.
A large picture window filled the wall behind my father, sometimes framing a snowy landscape. As the sky darkened, our gathering would be reflected in that window. The door to the screened-in porch was in the wall on one side of the room. Despite being closed tightly, drafts crept under the door. The hot water radiator clanged and hissed as it fought against the late fall drafts. Soon, we would be piling our winter coats and snow pants on the radiators on cold winter mornings to warm them before our walk to school.
Behind my mother’s chair was the swinging door to the kitchen, it gave her easy to enter and exit the dining room bearing platters of food. Her constant trips through that door weren’t fully appreciated until I grew up and hosted Thanksgiving myself and realized the amount of work that went into preparing such a large meal.
Around the table sat both sets of grandparents, likely adding stress to my mother’s day and pure delight to mine. My three siblings and I, dressed up, and on our best behavior, completed the dinner party.
For a few years I was obsessed with a dress that had a plaid taffeta skirt that crinkled when I sat down. It came with a red velvet vest onto which I would pin a holiday-themed pin. I wore the dress with white tights which perpetually inched their way down my skinny hips, so that I was always pulling them up, trying to keep the crotch from falling down to my knees.
As much as I loved turkey, it was dessert I looked forward to the most. It was only then that the table rules would briefly be suspended and the children would line up, heads back, mouths open like baby birds, so our paternal grandfather could squirt Reddi-Whip into our mouths. We learned how to flip spoons into teacups and took full advantage of table antics that were only allowed because our grandfather was encouraging us.
I know my mother hosted other Thanksgivings in my childhood, in other houses, yet when I think of my childhood Thanksgivings they are always in that formal dining room with the big chandelier; warm, cozy, and surrounded by family.
November Reading
The Gratitude Diaries by Janice Kaplan. If you are fan of Gretchen Rubin’s The Happiness Project, I’m sure you will enjoy it too.
I had an overwhelming urge to read some Thanksgiving short stories the other day and happily discovered a few:
An Old-Fashioned Thanksgiving by Louisa May Alcott
Two Thanksgiving Day Gentlemen by O. Henry
The Thanksgiving Visitor by Truman Capote
You can read the first two right now by clicking on the links. I found the Truman Capote story in The Complete Stories of Truman Capote (I’m enjoying all the stories in it by the way.)
(Note: Links to books are affiliate links and I will receive a commission on orders placed.)
Do you have any Thanksgiving book recommendations?
A gift for Paid Subscribers
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News
I'm so excited to announce that I had my first piece of fiction published in a literary journal! You can read Blood and Water on MonkeyBicycle.
As always, thanks for reading!
I remember these special holiday moments. Thanks for sharing yours!!! :-)
Thanks for the fun memories. We never had both sets of grandparents at holidays even though they did not live far apart. Hmm.
And thanks for the short story suggestions. I'll give the Truman Capote one a try.
I'm thankful for your charming posts that always bring back nice memories.