Growing up in a newspaper family meant festivals of the church or state came a distant second to the demands of the paper and the needs of subscribers.
Thanksgiving, with its fixed fourth Thursday in November anchor, was just another work day. Or that’s the way it seemed until it was almost too late. My father’s birthday was Nov. 25. We would often have a celebration on a convenient weekend day and call it Thanksgiving.
There would be turkey, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole and cranberry/Jello salad. My grandmother would bring that salad with cranberries, celery, pecans and cream cheese suspended in strawberry Jello.
I don’t remember that dish tasting quite the same since her death.If Dad’s brother, Lloyd, was in town, we would also have oyster stew. I recall being fascinated by the little round crackers that swam in the milky broth, even if Dad scolded me for not eating my oysters.
Mother may have told us that it was Thanksgiving, but when we saw the deserts, we all knew it was actually Dad’s birthday party.As time passed, my parents were able to have more leisure time.
The paper grew and modern technology allowed us to produce the newspaper in plenty of time for an evening feast. By 1993 my parents were semi-retired and dealing with health issues. My mother, however, insisted on a large family Thanksgiving gathering I will always remember… (a subscription to the Jimplecute is required to continue reading this article).
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