My birthday was just a couple days ago—and Thanksgiving is less than a week away. Some years my birthday falls on Thanksgiving.
We will be spending a quiet Thanksgiving at home—just hubby, my mother and the pups and cat. Our children are miles away and unable to come here—and we are unable to go there.
Looking back on my childhood, Thanksgiving was always a calm—somewhat sedate holiday. The years I recall, we typically spent Thanksgiving with my father’s mother and step-dad, and his stepfather’s sister—at my grandparent’s Covina apartment.
My grandparents often spent the summer months in Washington state, but would come down south and spend the winters in Southern California. My Grandma Madeline was an amazing cook, and the Thanksgiving meal was always prepared solely by her. I imagine she would have resented any offers to help.
The table was always set with her finest china, silver and crystal. And if memory serves me, my sister and I always showed up in what others would consider their Sunday best.
My sister, Lynn, and I were our paternal grandparents only grandchildren, so there were never any cousins to celebrate Thanksgiving with us—just five adults and two children.
It was a sober affair, but I remember the food was always amazing. My Grandma Madeline wasn’t a particularly demonstrative or affectionate grandmother, but she often used food to express her love.
What’s on your Thanksgiving menu this year?
