I’m sure I’m blocking all the tension and stress, but in my holiday filtered memory, Thanksgiving was fun. 

         The best part of Thanksgiving is that it was like a Sunday in the middle of the week. Sleeping in, waking up to good smells from the kitchen, everyone home, including dad. He may have gotten up early to go to church and I can’t remember him being particularly visible, but his presence was felt. That must have had a calming effect, because unlike Christmas, I don’t even remember mom being particularly anxious.

         I do remember trying to stay out of the way. I might have been in charge of the kids as usual, but we were all plopped down in front of the TV and I was so engrossed in the Macy’s Parade, I can’t remember fighting or yelling. Mom always made it sound so special to “Go watch the Parade”. It was like it was our job to carry on that tradition. Looking back, I think she just wanted us out of the kitchen and to sit still for a while. But I waited with baited breath for the Rocketts because when they appeared, we knew what came next- Santa! And once Santa made his trip from the beautiful float to his throne in Macy’s, the holidays could begin.        

         I know preparations for the Thanksgiving meal started days ahead and we all had to pitch in. Bob’s job of shining the silver, reminded us of the tradition of the occasion. Those ancient forks our ancestors used to gobble turkey before us. We used certain dishes and linens and a leaf in the table. I’m not sure whom we were trying to impress. I only remember grandma and Aunt Clara coming a few times. Mostly I think it was just us. We made a full table ourselves. And although the setting made it special, paper plates would have worked just as well. But I think it was mom’s way of trying to make magic. She had her dreams and had her vision of Rockwell’s American Family. And maybe if she could get the picture just right, we would be like the people in the novels she loved to read, with a happy ending.

         And of course, I remember food and lots of it; Mashed potatoes and a decent gravy, dad’s crusty crunchy stuffing, mom’s sugar coated sweet potatoes and the moist, hot turkey, something we never had on any other day. I don’t know why.  Turkeys weren’t that expensive and you got a lot of food out of it. It surly would have been better than those stringy roasts we had. But again it may have been tradition and Thanksgiving wasn’t a time to argue about that.

         I can’t remember a single conversation or interaction of that day. It comes to me in still pictures. A shot of us lined up on the green couch in front of the TV, like The Simpsons’ opening credits. Panning the living room into the kitchen I capture a shot of mom at the stove, a Betty Crocker commercial. Then, a table covered in food, like the Last Supper, surrounded by people, a blur of activity a hum of voices. Jostling for positions conversations on the side. Until stuffed like the turkey, tired and satisfied, we waddled to the sink and dishes then made our way back to the TV to fall into a tryptophan induced stupor content to fall asleep and dream of the next Holiday.

Home for the Holidays!

Even my Thanksgiving Cactus 

is getting ready for the Holidays!

Best Friends Forever

When you’re young, it seems like you’ll always be together. Your world is a nice tidy room of grade school friends who will always be there. A scene frozen in time.

Nancy will always like Bill Cosby and Star Trek. Beth will always remind me of Spock and books. Mary Jane will always be a compassionate teacher. We didn’t yet realize the outside influences that would disrupt our little scene. High School expanding our perimeter, outside influences stretching us in every direction. Pulling us beyond our small group into an ever-widening world.

Yet for a while, we were a group of girls, somehow sensing that we valued the best in each other. We respected the smart, witty way we could carry on a conversation, both talking and listening. Realizing the value of each point of view. Expanding our world beyond the classroom. Exploring pop culture with a sensible guide. Not gossiping but caring. Mirroring for each other our best selves.

Through the years we’ve grown and changed. We’ve moved beyond our tiny neighborhoods and elementary ideas. We now have a larger scope of family and friends.

But I like to think that at the core, we’re still those little girls, who found each other and learned the gift of friendship.

Bare branches
Like a skeleton
Flayed and exposed
No pretty platitudes
Or leaves
To protect it
Nothing to soften
The coming season
A life extinguished
Too soon.

Happy Birthday, Joni!

            Every autumn, we go on a leaf hunt. Like the anticipation of the spring lilacs, we gauge the months against nature’s calendar. Waiting for the exact moment when the blossoms begin. Fall brings its own treasures.

            It starts before Labor Day with “Back to School” advertisers littering their papers with bright orange and yellows hues. That sets the stage. As patrols of kids shuffle down the street back to school lifting their voices, the trees listen. Their cheers tint the edges in red; their sad laments are the color yellow as some stubbornly hang onto their green. We watch and wait.

            According to tradition and the Department of Natural Resources site, Northern Minnesota leaves start changing “Mid to late September” slowly creeping down. People flock to the North Shore to catch their first glimpse of this Annual transformation. The “Peak color map” is a bible for this miracle.

            We went up north too early for the peak, things got off to a late start this year. Not hot enough, not cold enough, not enough rain, too much rain.

But being early, we were able to spot the first sparks of color. Those early trees always seem to be some of the prettiest. That may be because they are set against a canvas of green or because our autumn minds are starved for color.

            Some of the early colors were muted this year. Again everyone had theories. They tried to explain why this year just didn’t compare to last year’s glory and don’t hold your breathe. But we did.

            According to the DNR peak colors make an appearance in the Twin Cities shortly before Minnesota Education Association’s meetings in October. MEA was usually a day to enjoy a last gasp of color ending in a dark and dreary end of the month. But this year the autumn lingered. Halloween was vivid with costumes and maple leaves. All Saints Day halos ringed the oak trees. On All Souls Day, we prayed for this miracle of suspended animation.

            The news explained it as an effect of the drought. Some sort of chemical reaction failed to hold up its end of the bargain, so the leaves couldn’t fall. I think the trees are just enjoying our admiration. And like us they are not quite ready for the long dark months ahead. Just one more day of glory and hanging on for dear life.