Thanksgiving

I have been reading the blogs, emails and face book notes how friends and acquaintances celebrated the holiday. My account follows.

On the Tuesday before I set the table. Starting with tablecloths made with loving care by my aunt from Finland. On top I laid several crocheted table toppers, hand-crafted by my mother-in-law and her sister in the 20s. The glassware came right out of the 30s, amber-colored depression water glasses and fruit dishes, also from my mother-in-law. The serving bowls were the common Autumn Wheat pattern, common that is in the 20s. They came down through the generations from my grandmother.

Yes, there was food, pretty much the same as everyone else in the country ate. This year I did not burn the marshmallows on the sweet potatoes (Last year, the prayer was long and I had put the sweet potatoes under the broiler to brown up the marshmallows and I forgot until halfway through the prayer, obviously not paying attention to the gratitudes and praise and wondering how long one should really keep something so fluffy under the broiler. I rushed over when I began to smell smoke and when I opened the oven door flames shot right up into the middle of the kitchen. Luckily marshmallows kind of stick together when they are charring so I just put a fork in one side and the whole sweet top came off. I carried it aflame to the sink and ran water over it. No need to call the fire department. They were served sans marshmallows. Since only my husband and son-in-law like sweet potatoes, they were the only two affected).

This year after dinner we sat around and talked, watched some lame football games and ate again. It was a lovely kind of day. And that's what I'm thinking about.