Traditions of time...

My childhood Thanksgivings were grand. It was the embodiment of the true spirit of Thanksgiving. Mom was always overwhelmed. She never knew how many turkeys she was going to have to cook. She didn't know how many chairs and tables she would set but somehow she always muddled through, linens starched, crystal and china washed and silverware polished.
We formed some traditions that died before we had a chance to get too used to them but some still hang on. About a year after Mom and Dad bought Culligan Mom announced that she was postponing Thanksgiving dinner to Saturday so she would have time to prepare for it. It stuck. Instant tradition. It was a double edged sword though. Yes, she had more time to prepare but practically nobody we knew would be otherwise engaged the Saturday after Thanksgiving... and the number of people who get invited to a house when six people are doing the inviting gets a little bit out of hand. Mom stuck to her southern hospitality with fervor though. Some people who came were a thrill and some were less than thrilling. I prefer to reminisce about the thrilling people. We loved to invite the Torrijos family every year and embrace the diverse heritage and the shared thankfulness for America. Gilberto and Elesia were first generation Americans hailing from Columbia with a mysterious fascinating background and beautiful foreign accents. I can hear Gilberto's hearty laugh as I sit here. He was like a grandfather to me in some ways, maybe a great uncle or something, I don't know but he was grand and funny. Aunt Bonnie and Aunt Jessie always came with our cousins Diane and sometimes Michael. Aunt Bonnie personified joy, her voice rang clear and high above the din and her shattering laugh was her hallmark. Aunt Bonnie and Gilberto now laugh for Jesus in heaven. That tradition is gone but I've saved it as an example I would like to pull out and apply in my own home someday. Striking vibrant people who are the jewels of a party. Aunt Nancy and Uncle Roger usually came. Uncle Roger would be pressed into service repairing a car and Aunt Nancy would industriously charge into the kitchen and start delegating tasks that Mom had been trying to shoulder on her own.
We always bought huge bags full of mixed nuts to shell for the fruit salad and the nut pies. That one carries on. Kids love to shell nuts.
Homemade rolls were a staple and Gin and I both hold to that tradition as well. What is Thanksgiving dinner without homemade rolls. Ah the funniest story of all lies in the homemade rolls but that will have remain untold... regrettably.
The fruit salad Granny used to make remains and though every one of us made it without celery at Dad's request for years, it turns out that Ginny, Mom and I all found ourselves wanting to put it back in last year.
Then there was the pie situation. No amount of reminiscing over Thanksgiving would be complete without reliving the pie drama. Every single person in the family wanted a different kind of pie and some all of their own. Dad wanted a walnut pie and a mince meat pie. Louis wanted an entire pumpkin pie all to himself. Ginny wanted apple pie, Daniel and I wanted pecan pie and Mom wanted coconut cake. We then had to calculate the number of additional guests and divide it so at least 1/3 of a pie had been allocated per person. I believe the record set on this was 14 pies to be divided among 32 people. Yes, the math isn't quite right but I am certain we had 32 people in my parents little house sitting at tables made for anywhere from 2 people to 8.
It's funny how we never took pictures. We didn't even realize we were making memories we might want to relive someday. If I had a picture of Mom, Aunt Bonnie and Aunt Jessie doubled over in laughter, faces flushed from the hot kitchen and tears of hysterical laughter running down their cheeks when Aunt Jessie accidentally put baking soda in the gravy instead of corn starch, it would be a prize. If I had a portrait of Gilberto's face when he tasted a persimmon that wasn't ripe against Dad's advisement, I'd have something to make me laugh on my darkest day. If I had a picture of Gin's consternation when I insisted on dying my hair black (though it turned out gray) and wearing my Native American dress to Thanksgiving dinner, I'd post it on my facebook page every Thanksgiving.
This year, Jody's dad and Marcy will come have Thanksgiving with us. It sounds so small but making Thanksgiving Dinner for seven people is a big deal. It gives me some empathy for Mom. What a wild scene our house was as a kid and I didn't even know it.