I was talking to my daughter one day when she asked me what we were doing for Thanksgiving. In the past this question would have been a no-brainer, we would have spent at least one day at my parents. It isn't so certain this year since my mother past away last year. Last Thanksgiving we spent it up north at my brother's home.
She told me, "I didn't like it last year, I want to have it at Poppy's this year."
"You didn't like going to Leon and Janie's last year?" I asked, surprised.
"It wasn't going there, it was not being able to help. At Granny's you and I helped her with the food, we got to be involved. Janie had everything nearly done and everytime I offered to help, she told me she had it under control. It just didn't feel right."
This made me think, and I realized she was right. We always arrived early enough to help with the cooking, just as we always did at holiday meals at my Grandmother's home. And we always worked together to do the cleaning up afterwards. That was when we did most of our talking as well, during the cooking and the cleaning.
My family had always been close, especially the women. Dinners at Gram's house always had an unintentional group division that I never totally understood until now. Women congregated in the kitchen, men congregated in the living room, and the children were scattered throughout the yard, breaking up in their own little groups, but primarily on the front porch.
When you started helping with the cooking and the cleaning, you quietly graduated from "one of the kids" to "one of the women." In the kitchen you learned what everybody had been doing, what their kids were up to, how life was going in the homes of other family members, even the gossip and news from the home towns of others. We bonded. It was those conversations, whether exchanging jokes, gossip, or talking about family, it was bonding time for the women of my family.
Never again will I hustle and bustle to try to have everything ready and looking perfect for a family get together. We may not have the picture-perfect turkey, the lace table clothe, linen napkins, or matching fine china, but we will have time to talk while mashing the potatoes, cutting out cookies, basting the turkey, and washing the dishes. We will have time to bond.
**This article is a reprint I had written in 2008**
i know this feeling..when my grandma died 13 yrs ago...all the things that were tradition for us..stopped. weve got new traditions now...but its just not the same. i still miss thoes things she did. and i remember being one of the women..now im one of the cooks..the main 2 being mom and myself. and i make some of the things my grandma did.and alot of things she didnt. its normal to my kids..but not to me. i still miss that old part of my life..when i was a kid..and the adults made the decisions. it was lots easier. she would want me to continue to have a dinner tho..and share what i love...with thoes i love.
ReplyDeleteit happens..folks leave us..we go on..and some day..long in the future i hope..my kids will be in the same position im in...this is not what its suposed to be..but its what it is..
this was a good post..thank you.
Family traditions have changed in my life drastically. I'm very sad to think about those days gone by. We used to visit my grandparent's home and everything was so much fun. Yes, grandma and all my aunts and my mother would gather in the kitchen and chat. Grandpa and the uncles would stay in the living room and play checkers while grandpa smoked his pipe and sat in his rocking chair. As children, we always found something interesting to do...play in the shed, play the piano, sled on the hills.
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