Cliff and I have spent other Thanksgiving Days with just the two of us participating. I recall two of those times very well. On one occasion when our son was stationed in Germany and our daughter's family lived in Carthage, we went out to eat; that was better than nothing, I suppose. Another time, we crashed the party at his brother's house in Higginsville. If you like to celebrate with a crowd, that's a great place to go; you see kids of all ages there, and they are jubilant when they're together.
But this year takes the cake, doesn't it?
I'm cooking some of our favorite holiday foods anyway. Noodles, turkey, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce from a can AND the cranberry salad my mom always made, which is more of a dessert than a salad. Corn from this year's garden. Sweet potatoes. You get the drift. Our daughter and her husband are going to come and get a share of the food to eat at home. It was tempting to go ahead with the usual family Thanksgiving dinner, but when experts are telling us "don't do it", I'll take their advice. I'll just think back on past Thanksgivings. My daughter and her husband in town are also alone, so they'll come here, get their dinner, and take it home to eat.
When I was growing up, we went to my maternal Grandma's. Her little house was filled to the brim and running over with relatives. Later on after Grandma was gone, we'd have two Thanksgiving dinners: One on the actual day, one on the weekend after, so we could celebrate with both mine and Cliff's parents. This year's Thanksgiving was going to feel different anyhow: After the grandson married, we had gatherings that included our family and his wife's family, and I liked that. Now that there's been a divorce, it's back to just our family again. Pictures from past Thanksgivings have been visible on the Echo Show in the kitchen all week, reminding me that holidays change in many ways, and change is normal.
Today, it's just us, with plenty of food. That's alright, I suppose. I'm getting used to "just us" this year. Yesterday I made one pumpkin pie and one Petty Aunt Pie. That's the extent of the desserts we'll have. If you happened to read about Petty Aunt Pie the other day and wondered what it tastes like, Cliff and I each had a small bite of when it was still warm: I will be making it again. It's delicious!
The calendar on my laptop keeps reminding me it's Thanksgiving, as if I didn't know. I'm getting very tired of the reminder.
Yesterday I saw a stranger standing in our yard. I watched him out the window for awhile; when I saw him calling someone on his cell phone, I decided it was time to find out what was going on. "May I help you?" I hollered. "Well, maybe," he answered. He told me he lives just down the road on 224 highway. His two poodles had run off and he was looking for them. Immediately he had my sympathy, because Gabe has caused me grief by going off someplace he shouldn't be, so many times. I told the fellow to give me his phone number so I could contact him if I saw the dogs; as I was writing down the number, I had a better idea, and asked him if he had Internet at home; he said yes.
"Go to the Wellington Community page on Facebook," I told him, "and post something about your dogs being lost. People do that all the time. You will have your dogs back before you know it."
Sure enough, Cliff was looking at Facebook later and saw the man's post; people were holding the dogs, waiting to find out who they belonged to. Cliff said as soon as the guy posted on the board, that person responded. It makes me happy to know I helped someone find his dog.
I think I'll go make the noodles so they'll have some drying time. I'm tired of being reminded by my computer that it's Thanksgiving Day anyhow. I truly am thankful that we've made it through the pandemic unscathed so far. As far as the weirdness of 2020, it can't be much worse than holidays were in times of war, or during the Depression of the thirties.
Happy Thanksgiving, faithful readers. I hope there are no typos in this hurriedly composed drivel, but if so, I'll fix them later.