The Thanksgiving I Remember

These days when Thanksgiving Day approaches, I tend to get a little nostalgic. Not for my mom's turkey and all the trimmings dinner, but for my great-grandmother's Thanksgiving dinners, (on my dad's side). She used to have these hugh dinners with the extended family in attendance, and as I look at the photos I am surprised at how much I actually do remember those dinners and how many of the people I remember.

A little of the background: My father, (being the oldest grandson), is named after his grandfather. And I, being the first born great-granddaughter, was named after his grandmother. And my father and I were what you might call a little spoiled by grandma and grandpa. And they didn't care who was around, they had no shame in showing favoritism.

The one Thanksgiving that I remember as my all time favorite, was the year I was 6. That year my great-grandparents and my dad's parents came to our house for Thanksgiving. Wow, it was wonderful. My grandmothers brought all kinds of food and worked in the kitchen with my mom. After dinner, everyone sat around and played card games, until late into the night. Then it was decided that it was too late for my great-grandparents to drive home, (cause grandpa's eyes weren't as good as they used to be). So they would stay the night and go home the next morning. So dad's mom and dad left for home, and my mom made up her and my dad's bedroom for grandma and grandpa. Early the next morning, I ran into grandma and grandpa's room to proudly announce that it had snowed during the night and they couldn't go home in the snow, so they would have to stay overnight again. But, grandma said no, they needed to get on the road for home. I was so sad, I thought my little heart would break. But grandpa sit down, and told me to remember how much fun we had yesterday, and to always remember all our good times. I promised him that I would.

And now that they have been gone for over 40 years, I still remember the good times with them. I remember sitting in grandma's kitchen, eating with them and sharing my secrets with them. Knowing that my secrets were safe. Listening to their words of wisdom, knowing that they wouldn't steer me wrong. I was 13 when my great-grandmother passed away, and I thought my world would never be the same. I sure grandpa felt the same. When I got my license and my car, I drove to see him at least every other month. By then he had lost his sight, but his mind was sharp and we still shared secrets and lunches of soups and sandwiches. When grandpa passed away I was 20 years old and I knew that I had lost the two people who loved me unconditionally and without judgement. My father felt the same pain, (my mother told about his retreat into their bedroom to grieve that afternoon). We both knew that we would never had that kind of love again in our lives. But we have our photos and our memories. And when I see them again in the next life, we will once again share secrets. Here's a couple of photos from the Thanksgiving in 1958.
Can you find me ???...