Not sure if my brothers will remember Thanksgiving as I did, but Thanksgiving was the holiday we generally spent with Dad's side of the family. We weren't as close to Dad's side of the family for a number of reasons, but one reason was that our cousins on Dad's side were older, and there were more girls - so we didn't relate to them as closely as we did with the cousins on Mom's side of the family. We were all pretty close in age, and mostly boys, so we had a lot in common.
Most Thanksgivings were spent at Grandma's, a mere four to six blocks away from our house. I can remember Thanksgivings at Mary's or Marcie's, but not many. Most were at Grandma's house, and the ones that were most memorable was when our cousins from Bellevue (near Dubuque) came ... the Franks. Marty, Angie and Tony in that birth order with Marty being about my age and Tony being somewhere between Marc and Brad in age. Angie usually tried to stay out of the way of five energetic boys trapped in a little house, looking for things to throw, shoot and tear up.
Following a traditional Thanksgiving meal, dessert was the real treat I remember about eating at Grandma's house. Aside from Grandma's pickled beets, which for some reason I really liked and like to have on Thanksgiving in remembrance, Grandma's real treat was her apple pie. Quite simply, it was the best ... and I can recall several debates with others as an adult because EVERYONE says their Grandma made the best pie. But seriously, ours did! As ammunition for why our Grandma's was the best I would usually ask, did your Grandma use real lard, real sugar, real apples, and make her crust from scratch? If the answer to any of these questions was either 'I don't know' or 'no' then I had won the argument. The Amish couldn't make a pie as good as Grandma.
While she made all sorts, pecan, cherry, rhubarb, peach and apple, none compared to the apple. Boy, I wish I could have a piece right now!
Once someone filled your plate with turkey, ham, mash potatoes and gravy, and a carrot or slice of green pepper as garnish you headed to a card table in the back room of Grandma's house. Away from adults in the kitchen that was engulfed with a standard dining room table and a mixed set of chairs to accommodate the large number of guests that were atypical for every day of the year except this one.
We chatted with cousins we saw once or twice a year, munched on the massive amount of food that none of us could finish, and gazed outside for some fresh air and room to breathe. It didn't take long till the tipping point had been reached where we weren't going to eat any more (in spite of parent promptings) and the adults wanted us outside so they could enjoy the meal together in the absence of kids. That's when the fun began!
It usually started innocent enough with throwing a football, a baseball or any object that could be made airborne behind the strength of a kid's arm. All it took was one overthrow of the ball into any of the bushes that framed the back yard. When that occurred and someone went into those bushes to retrieve the ball, out popped a rabbit who considered it little more than a distraction on a gorgeous fall day. There were rabbits everywhere around Grandma's house ... it was on the outskirts of town and there was lots of cover and food for a ballooning rabbit population.
What it signaled for a bunch of boys was an opportunity to go hunting, rabbit hunting!
Our hunting instincts evolved quickly, first we would hurl the balls we had at the fleeing rabbits. From there it was sticks and rocks. After that, spears (sticks with sharpened ends thanks to Grandpa's woodworking tools) and clubs that had nails affixed to them via electrical or duck tape, again thanks to Grandpa's stash in their garage.
Hours spent strategizing, stalking, chasing and hunting rabbits. I remember coming back to Grandma's house with my arm sore, my body covered in sweat, my clothes covered in dirt and stickies (I don't remember the actual term) from the bushes we trounced through, and with a huge smile on my face because of the time spent with family. I was exhausted and incredibly happy. And then I got to look forward to a slice of Grandma's apple pie, a side of vanilla ice cream, and a glass of milk.
I can also remember there being football on the TV, but I don't remember ever spending much time watching it. There was nothing like the fresh air, the leaves covering the green grass, the exercise from hunting rabbits, and topping it all off with a slice of Grandma's fresh apple pie with my cousins and brothers that was what made Thanksgiving special for me.
Ahhh, the good ole days!
P.S. Marc, if you've got any pictures from Thanksgiving you could share to accompany this post that would be awesome.
No comments:
Post a Comment