Thanksgivin'

(Thanksgiving in Camp by Alfred Waud)

With clarity and brightness, I stare at the electronic page before me and think about what it is I will offer you all today. I think I should just let my gratitude guide me and see where it goes. So pull up a chair and grab a deck of cards... you can flip through them or play solitaire while I type, it's okay with me.

Thanksgiving.
I remember being young, my family gathering around the house. I remember the big bowl of nuts in the shell, and that I liked the almonds and the hazel nuts best, but walnuts were a pain to eat. I remember my Grandfather hovering over the pickles and the olives. I remember the smells of the meal being prepared, the potatoes being whipped in the giant old aluminum pot, the meat stuffing being heated again after cooling all night in the unheated front hall (did we ALWAYS have one of those no matter where we lived?  Seems it!). I remember the turnips and carrots and sweet potato and just so much food there on the table... it was glorious to a kid to see all of it spread out and waiting.   And I remember the comically large turkey being summoned from the oven and placed at the head of the table where my Grandfather sat.  He would carve it up, dish it, and then it would be passed around to join the other foods already plated or being plated as we talked and laughed.  Oddly, here my brain takes a detour.  My Grandfather was the one who always carved the turkey.  not my Father. And up until right now, I wondered about that. But I'll give the man a nod and a huge amount of respect for deferring that honor to his wife's father for the entirety of the man's stay in this life.  That's a lot of respect that drives a decision like that, and I think my Father deserves the same.

Where was I?
Oh, the turkey.
It was never dry, as I remember it.  I've cooked some doozies in my life, but my mother didn't. Tradition and care drove her ability to cook a beautiful bird.

Then came the football, and the cleaning, and the loafing.  It seems that my clarity ends after the meal, and it becomes a muddied mess.  Dishes, of course, and some chatting, but I think the meal really overshadowed the rest of the day.


Today, things are a little different. I used to go to my wife's family for the meal, then dessert with my family (if at all), but that's not happening this year.  So for the return to my joining my family for the meal, drama-free, I am thankful.

I am also thankful for a great many other things... shall I list a few?

• My health, and the health of my family. We're getting older for sure, but we're still kicking.  
• My children. Both of them.  My son making a life for himself in a different state, and my daughter finding ways to grow up too quickly.  
• My family. All of it.  Even the new members I recently added by way of reunion or by choice. I am grateful for the support, for the sharing, and for the love you give.
• My life, and the opportunities I have in it. 
• My art, and the chances I have been given to explore things I never thought possible.  
• My memories of those who have passed. 
• My kitteh, Magic. (who is sleeping the day away it seems!)
• You. All of you. Those of you who visit my blog to see what the hell I am up to now, or to read the latest babbling or poem or story or whatever... why you come here is not important, but that you do is.  
• My friends. Old, new, often or seldom seen. The ones with whom I have crazy adventures and the ones I have touching, quiet moments with.  The ones who take me up on the offer of a shoulder, and the ones I cry on. I am grateful for your friendship. Always.

So there it is. A very short list of just a few of the things I am thankful for this year.

Oh, yeah. I might have a couple things that I didn't mention.
Gina and Jennifer.
Yeah. I'm pretty thankful for them being here, in my life so boldly and bravely. I am thankful for the trust they display, and the kindness, and of course the love.  That glorious, warming love.

Happy Thanksgiving to all of you.

I love you.