by Joe Snyder
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I suppose Thanksgiving is memory time for all of us. Some of the most vivid recollections of my childhood have to do with Thanksgiving and the feasting and the fun that was had at my Grandmother Franklin’s house on the east side of Kansas City.
My grandmother lived in a large two-story house with many rooms to play in. I still remember the large dining room with the old gas light fixtures, later converted to electricity. It was in this room our family gathered for the annual Thanksgiving dinner. All the leaves for the big oak table were extended to room length to accommodate all the relatives.
White linen table covers were spread, the silver laid out, and all the while one was aware of the activity in the kitchen. The turkey was in the oven and the kitchen filled with the most enticing smells. In those days when all the family was gathered around the table, it was quite a crowd.. There was lots of merriment, joking and chiding the children. It was a time to cement relationships, even allowing for the differences that existed from time to time.
One of my relatives could pray a prayer that lasted about 15 minutes. I thought it terrible with all that food there, and all those relatives waiting to eat, why Uncle A. I. had to give us the whole load every year. On those occasions there was one thing I was truly thankful for: that only God and I knew what I was thinking. As a small boy I thought we would always be together, but that was yesterday.
In my grandmother’s time there was little radio and no television, thus there were no distractions like Thanksgiving parades and NFL football. We made our own entertainment around the piano, or a harmless card game. This seems pretty tame by today’s standards, but we always thought we were having a marvelous time.
Today I am aware of the relatives and friends I’ve lost; the sources that provided me with encouragement and support; the buddies who died in horror and pain on distant battlefields.
My mother, wise and tough, once told me, "The women in our family live forever." Well, not quite. Mother died. It was not the "forever"she had promised. When the nights turn cool, I pull up a quilt and try not to ache for the loving hands who made it.
A scrap of music, a hearty laugh, a funny story, the flash of a bird at the window, the banter of the guys who gather at the coffee shop each morning, my church, and a loving family remind me there is so much to be thankful for. So I will be in a thankful mode this Thanksgiving for all my wonderful and tolerant friends and relatives.
I am looking forward to a nice Thanksgiving dinner with a few remnants of my mother’s relatives.
Someone has said Thanksgiving was established by the Puritans for being saved from the Indians and that we have kept it to give thanks for being saved from Puritans. Whatever, let us thank God for Thanksgiving, a place to worship, good friends, and pray that God is always with us.