Today is a melange of posts from Coffee’s past Thanksgivings. Some posts you might remember, but they are so a part of my Thanksgiving memories they need to be here. I remember and miss dearly my mother and father. These memories keep them close.

Happy Thanksgiving!

I wish you all a day filled with family and good friends. As you sit around the table enjoying a good meal and each other, think of all your gifts and blessings and give thanks.

On Thanksgiving morning when I was a kid, we’d all be sitting still in our pajamas in front of the TV watching the parade. We’d be noshing, as my mother would have said, on tangerines, mixed nuts in the shell and M&M’s, plain M&M’s. I liked the Brazil nuts but not the almonds. The aroma of the turkey would have already filled the house. My mother woke in the early morning to stuff it and put it in the oven. Every year it was a huge turkey, good for days of leftovers. My mother filled it with sage stuffing, still my favorite. While we watched the parade, my mother stayed in the kitchen peeling vegetables. Potatoes were always first, and there were plenty. My father’s asparagus, canned asparagus, was put in a small pan on the back burner. My mother peeled the small pearl onions for creamed onions, one of my favorite vegetables. Niblet corn and sometimes carrots filled out the menu. All four burners had pots filled with vegetables. I especially remember one pot because I think my mother had it forever. The pot had a dent and a black spot on the side which never disappeared. It usually held the potatoes. I remember the heat and steam when my mother opened the over to baste the turkey with butter and steal a bit of the crusty stuffing, hers by right of being the cook.

Befitting the occasion, we sat in the dining room. The table always looked lovely covered in a holiday tablecloth and set with special dishes. I can see my father at the head of the table. He loved gravy and mashed potatoes. He loved the canned cranberry sauce. He loved asparagus right out of the can. My favorites were creamed onions and a special squash dish, a recipe from my aunt. The table groaned with dishes. Passing those filled dishes around the table took some maneuvering with the table so tightly packed with food.

My father ate quickly so he could get back to his football games. The rest of us sat at the table to finish eating. Soon enough, the table emptied, and my mother and I tag-teamed for the cleanup. I cleared the table, and she loaded the dishwasher, and we both cleaned the kitchen. After everything was cleared, we brought out the pies. The always pies were apple and lemon meringue. Sometimes they’d be blueberry, pumpkin or sweet potato. My father went right for a huge slice of apple pie with cheddar. I had lemon meringue.

I am grateful today for so many things but especially for these memories filled with family. I love my family and my friends who have become family. I hold my Coffee family close. We have never met but that’s no never mind. You don’t need to be related or even have met to be family. I am so thankful for the life I have been lucky enough to live. Today I’ll miss family and friends. It will be a quiet Thanksgiving but still a celebration. I’ll wear my turkey earrings, sumptuously dine and maybe even get dressed.

The morning is cloudy and chilly. The air has the feel of late fall. Yesterday’s wind is gone. It will rain today.

I have only two uke events this week, practice tonight and a concert tomorrow. We are starting to practice Christmas music. December is heavy with concerts.

Last night I watched a Christmas Carol film I hadn’t ever seen. It starred Fredric March as Scrooge and Basil Rathbone as Marley. I did some hunting and found it had been a television episode in 1954 of a program called A Shower of Stars. It was under an hour. The story had music, wandering Carolers, a duet with Scrooge and Belle and Tiny Tim singing by the Christmas tree in the Cratchit house. To accommodate this music the ghosts had far shorter visits, especially the ghost of Christmas yet to come who brought Scrooge to Tiny Tim’s grave. The stone only read Tiny Tim. Despite the shortened length, I enjoyed my first Christmas Carol of the season.

My grandmother had a couple of brothers. I met them both, Uncle Otto and Uncle Henry. Sue was Uncle Henry’s wife. Every time I saw her, she was wearing one of those big round hats women in the 1950’a wore. She never really talked to me or anyone. She just sat on the couch and smoked. My father used to visit Uncle Henry. He’d bring him cigars and magazines. Everyone thought Uncle Henry was poor, but he left Sue a lot of money when he died. My father took me on one visit. Uncle Henry gave me a book of Christmas stories. I still have it.

Thanksgiving smells of pies baking and of turkey slowly roasting in the oven. When my mother would open the oven door to baste the turkey, the aroma would fill the house. That made the wait until dinner almost unbearable.