Ah yes, the holidays are upon us and just beginning. I always looked forward to Thanksgiving. It was a time when we had the whole family together all day. When I was little and we were still living in Wendell, I had both grandmothers and my paternal grandfather in attendance. Later after we moved to Boise, Mother was cooking all morning with grandmother Johnston by her side. Occasionally Grandfather Harms would join us in Boise rather than go to Lincoln, Nebraska, to my aunt’s family.
Thanksgiving morning would start with mother turning on the TV to listen to Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade at 7:00. She would have started the yeast rolls the night before, they would be in the oven as she prepared the stuffing. She had the slices of white bread standing like soldiers around the counters drying out since the night before. Father would be cutting up the celery, onions, and the turkey innards including the neck in a pot on the stove that would simmer all morning. That’s how the day began, with the aroma of rolls and the unmistakable scent of onions in the air. And it only got better after they put the bird in the oven. It was usually a 20+lb bird and it was Father’s job to put it in and take it out of the oven for basting. Mother would say with fanfare that it was in the oven and dinner would be ready around 3:00. Grandmother would peel the potatoes.
We would keep them abreast of the parade happenings letting them know when the balloons were on and informing dad when the Rockettes were performing. (Mom and Dad had gone to Radio City to see the Rockettes perform during their honeymoon in ‘45.)
We would all be seated, and the family sang the blessing, Be Present at Our Table Lord. Which was the only time a blessing was offered at our table. I loved our ‘family choir.’ My sisters’ sopranos, my mother’s alto, my brother’s baritone, my Grandfather’s tenor, and my father’s bass. When the congregation sings hymns, it takes me back.
The meal was at our table laden with all the dishes including mother’s spiked yams, with loads of brown sugar and brandy. I remember Wanda Boyles, a family friend since Wendell, when mother went to replenish them saying, “throw out the damn yams Violet, and bring on the sauce!” When supper was over, I remember my paternal grandfather sitting on the couch, putting his head back and placing a handkerchief over his face as he would take a nap.
My mother was a marvelous cook. I had a great example of good food throughout my youth. Thanksgiving provided us with food to last a week. We’d have turkey sandwiches and other accompanying dishes on the third day. When it was getting down to the last of the turkey, Grandmother would make “turkey on a shingle,” she’d make the white sauce with the last bits of turkey and put it on a slice of white bread. It was my least favorite thing about the holiday. Father would make turkey soup from the carcass and lots of onions and celery. Mother and Dad would make several turkeys throughout the year as it was economical and each could feed our family for a while.
We always looked forward to the holidays as that is when mother used her Ming china. She and father would do the dishes not trusting them to us youngsters. We would wash the pots and pans, and leave the china to mom and dad.
Nowadays, the holidays for me, begin with Apple Communion the Sunday prior to Thanksgiving. Such a meaningful start. Then Thanksgiving, with Boise family, occasionally we have close friends at the table.
The next BUUF service to come is the music program by our choir and musicians. Then Deck the Halls when we create ornaments for the community tree. Then a Christmas pageant. complete with the congregation singing Twelve Days of Christmas and Rudolph with the youth interjecting the words. Then Winter Solstice, when we all sit in the dark and slowly light up the room with everyone’s candles saying what they look forward to in the New Year. Then Christmas Eve when we all sing-along the Christmas carols, hear Rev Sara’s thoughtful homily and sing Silent Night by candlelight in the sanctuary. This year Christmas falls on a Sunday, when we will have Pajama Church complete with a pancake breakfast. The last holiday service I look forward to is Fire Communion in January. Watching everyone experience their paper go ‘pffft’ as if by magic as they get rid of things for the new year.
Yes, it is the time for holidays and for family and friends to gather. And sometimes we get along and are civil to each other and other times we press each other’s buttons and can’t wait for dinner to be over. I am lucky to have had each other in my family. I hope you are able to gather throughout the season with those you consider “family” whatever that iteration is. May you be able to make new memories.
As Rev. Sara said in last week’s sermon: “What would love do here? Love would remind us that being in community matters. That our rituals and worship; coffee and fellowship; our dance parties; our stories; even our long meetings; these are the bits that bind us together and ground us in that which is greater than our knowing.”
