Thanksgiving to me. –

Since this is the day of the unofficial beginning of the Holiday season, I’d like to take a few moments to deviate from my narrative and reflect on Thanksgivings past and the future.
I have a confession to make. I hate turkey! In the past, when our family was still whole and together I always made a deal with Jim and the kids. We could have turkey on Thanksgiving or Christmas but never both. Fortunately they agreed and traditionally we would have lamb for one of the holidays.
The holidays may have been a time for togetherness and joy but it also was a heck of a labor intensive time as well. It meant cleaning house, food shopping and trying to figure out where in the world I was going to put all the food before preparation.
Sorting through all the years of holiday madness I was thinking tonight of one particularly crazy Christmas dinner that sort of defined the spontaneity of the season in our house.
This one Christmas we were having Jim’s sister Sue Ann and her husband Ted coming down from Connecticut as our guest for Christmas. My mother was also coming from Philadelphia for the day which meant a houseful of people besides two children our dog Abba (a Great Pyrenees) and a very fat cat named Bon Soir. Traditionally Jim and I always cooked together. Jim prepared the turkey and stuffing, I made the Irish potatoes and other veggies and the dessert including tapioca pudding which was Jim’s favorite.
Our kitchen was not very big and didn’t have a lot of counter space so we would make as many things the night before and refrigerate.
Fortunately we did have a nice size dining room and with the extra leaves for the dining table there was plenty of room for tableware and food. Though there was seven of us, there was room for eight with the chairs which were all placed around the table.
As we gathered in the dining room and everyone took to their seats, Abba decided to jump up in the chair at the head of the table where Jim was to sit. Now if you never saw a Great Pyrenees, think of a full grown St. Bernard, a breed related to the Pyrenees. Abba was approximately 115lbs, all white and female. She wasn’t just a dog, but very much a part of our family with a personality to boot. As far as she was concerned, she belonged there.
While my mother looked mortified, Jim tried to talk Abba into getting down, but she wouldn’t move. Jim never had much success in giving Abba commands and Abba always ignored his attempts. Mother on the other hand was not ignored. Though she loved Abba also, it was clear she was not amused by this spectacle. Abba removed herself at the mere sound of her voice, and dinner began.
Through each course, the dishes were removed and stacked neatly in the sink. Left over serving dishes were place in the oven or quickly wrapped and placed in the refrigerator because as I said before, our counter space was limited. After desert and because Sue Ann and Ted had to leave to make the long trip back to Connecticut and I had to drive Mom back to Philadelphia from New Jersey, Jim had placed the turkey in the kitchen. He was going to cut it up for leftovers but first we had to say good bye to our guests.
The kids gathered outside to say goodbye, I got the car and Mom got in. Sue Ann and Ted got into their car and we and for a few moments we continued saying goodbye to each other totally oblivious to the drama going on in the house.
For whatever reason Jim had turned to look in the window and saw it first. Suddenly he was shouting, arms waving as he stood frozen in place. There through the window he had a clear view of the dining room and the kitchen. The scene was comical. With exceptional ease Abba had lifted the turkey clear off the platter and was carrying it in her mouth into the dining room, placing it back on the table, and yes you guessed it, was having her own meal.
Recovering from his initial shock, Jim raced back into the house, followed by the kids. But Abba was too quick for him and she grabbed the bird and headed up the stairs to the bedroom. There she planted herself on our bed and laid her head on the turkey. But she gave it up without resistance.
Needless to say there was no leftover turkey that Christmas. I still smile as I remember those days despite the changes that have happened through the years. They were wonderful times with happy memories to keep me company, and I am thankful for the experience.