GIVING THANKS FOR THE SIMPLE THINGS IN LIFE AND MEMORIES.....

A series of essays.....

PILGRIM SALT & PEPPER SHAKERS ~  CIRCA 1956  (REPRODUCTION)

.....as seen through my eyes!



By: Jacqueline E. Hughes

When I think of skills, I recall the many hours Mom spent chopping cup upon cup of celery, onions, and carrots. She would peel mountains of potatoes before cutting and boiling them in a large, heavy pot of salted water. Skill, yes, but endurance, as well. This all began around four o'clock in the morning, when the hour was dark and the rest of us were all snuggled deep into our bedsheets and blankets dreaming of the feast to follow.

Interestingly, I still use the same potato peeler that Mom used way back when. It continues to work better than any peeler I've purchased on my own. 

We would have already named the huge bird the day or so before via popular consensus, being careful to recall his name from last season to avoid repetition. But, somehow, I remember him being called Tom more often than not.

Secretly, I think Mom rather enjoyed this time alone; those special hours before the songbird's initial twitter outside the kitchen window, or the first rays of sunlight rose above the horizon, while the household quietly breathed above her head. She was alone with her thoughts. There wasn't another soul near her to distract the steady rhythm of her work. Mom could do most everything that needed to be done, during those wee hours of Thanksgiving Morning, in the dark.....if need be. She had been doing it for so many years. 

I would like to think that Mom chopped and sliced while dreaming of walking a sandy, sun-dappled Hawaiian beach. The sound of the crashing waves giving her the power and strength she needed, while the crisp snap of swaying palm fronds moved like exotic hula dancers above, casting unique shadows along her path. Mom loved the thought of being in Hawaii. I don't know to this day if she would have ever taken the chance and flown there. Dreaming about it might have been as good as being there for her. 

I did ask her about Hawaii once. She only smiled at me as if to say that it would, in all likelihood, never happen. It never did....

I picture my Mom, under the bright kitchen lights, stuffing 'Tom' with marked vigor and taking out her aggressions with each cramming spoonful of her made-from-scratch dressing going into the cavity before pinning back the legs in preparation for baking. Women give vent to their frustration in various ways. I know that I would have utilized this opportunity to vent, if needed.

Back in those days, my youth, her young womanhood, girls were instructed not to 'make waves,' especially in public, and not often even in the privacy of their own home. They were to be happy to have a roof over their heads, children in which to take care of, and a husband who (hopefully) brought home his paycheck each week in order to pay the bills and keep that roof right where it belonged. The mid-1950's lost any charm it might have had....quickly, in my book.

I noticed, even as a young girl, how little 'alone time' my Mom had. If she wasn't wrestling with one of us four kids, she was cooking every evening meal, cleaning, washing tons of laundry, and falling into bed each night exhausted and thinking about doing it all over again the next day! Was the smile she graced us with while preparing breakfast before school genuine? I'd like to think so. It, certainly, meshed nicely with the kiss on the cheek we received before sitting down at the table. 

Having made the cranberry sauce the day before, and making sure the cut potatoes were fully covered with water in the pot so as not to air-purple before cooking, she may have had a moment to brew herself a cup of Lipton Tea in her favorite mug and sit down at the kitchen table. 

I wish I had had the wherewithal to pinpoint these special moments back then and ask her what she had been thinking about as she meticulously squeezed the used teabag into her teaspoon and placed it on the napkin beside her mug. Sipping her Half-n-Half laced brew, a habit I never adopted, I wonder now if any regrets were besieging her thoughts as morning shadows began to swirl around her kitchen? And, if so, with whom did she talk about them? Or, was the vast silence she contained within her only ally, her personal source of comfort?

Was a Mother's young daughter equipped to encapsulate such adult emotions and be able to decipher them with the reasoning that each one righteously deserved? Most likely not. But, I did experience these emotions in so many other ways. The silent tear that skimmed down a cheek, the far away look in her beautiful gaze, or a soft hand placed on mine as if telling me it would be all right. Even the very young can be touched by these signs.

The mouthwatering aroma of the baking bird would, eventually, slither up the staircase calling each one of our names. I am reminded of the black and white cartoons on a Saturday morning as I followed the visual of the curlicued scent downstairs where my Mom sat sipping from her favorite mug. The sheer act of hugging and kissing her was a simple yet marvelous gift to me. Inhaling the freshness of the cut vegetables and various spices that mingled with a touch of perspiration on her brow.....will linger with me forever.

It made me so happy to share a little bit of time alone with her, pajama clad as we both were, seeking the warmth of the kitchen. We discussed how many people would be sitting around our maple table in the dining room for dinner that afternoon. It was my job to find the autumn-themed tablecloth and matching napkins in the cupboard to be placed on the table after the two maple 'leaves' were put in to extend its size and, hopefully, accommodate all of us. 

Mom always cooked way too much food for Thanksgiving. I believe it was her way of giving a large part of herself to everyone she loved so much. She would tell me it was easier to cook a grand variety of dishes rather than try to second guess what everyone liked. So, we had several options for vegetables, sweet potato casserole and mashed potatoes with gravy (made from turkey drippings), cranberry sauce and frozen fruit salad (my favorite dish), and, occasionally, a good sized ham to accompany 'Tom' on the table. Our hearts and stomachs were filled by her gracious love. 

Cleaning up after the meal was a lethargic process that demanded concentration and lots of willpower. Admittedly, it remains my most loathsome part of cooking a large meal today. In those days, being the only daughter in a world of three brothers placed me beside Mom back in the kitchen once again. By this time the males were all gathered near the television watching the traditional Lions and Bears football confrontation and Grandma sat at the kitchen table offering conversation while nursing her after-dinner coffee and a cigarette. For the most part, Mom and I worked like clockwork. After all, we were a team.

Times have changed a bit and, having raised two daughters of my own, I reflect upon our time together naming the turkey without becoming too attached to it, mashing the potatoes, and placing the warm rolls into a napkin-lined basket for serving. Waking up at four in the morning was outdated no matter how many guests I fed. And, my husband was as big of a help in preparing the huge meal as he was in cleaning up afterwards. Still is to this day! God bless him.

Now our daughters have families of their own with five little ones between them. I know they are creating their own traditions every holiday that will be merged with those from both sides of their family that have been handed down throughout the years. The turkey may be deep fried instead of baked and vegetables such as kale substituted for creamed corn, but life goes on and sharing the simple things together as a family will always remain the backbone of our existence.

If I could share this precious time with my own Mother once again, I don't think I would change a single thing. What's more important is that I don't think she would, either.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING TO EVERYONE! Enjoy the company of those who have and will continue to touch your life whether they be family, friends, or people in need this Holiday Season. Remember to make beautiful memories together! 

A HUGE BIRTHDAY shout-out to my granddaughter, Lydia. You will always amaze and delight me! Happy 9th, with all of my Love.   

Copyright © 2016 by Jacqueline E. Hughes

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