Thanksgiving 2023

This is Anthony's third-grade art project that I assume was for Thanksgiving since it was between his scary Halloween paper and the Christmas picture.I don't remember his narrative, but the periscope is watching all the action.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving 2023.

I sat for several minutes staring at that short independent clause as my fingers alternately drummed the keyboard and rubbed Scooter’s ears. The idea that this is my 70th one is dumbfounding.

Though far from best pals (I’ll be forever suspicious), AI and I are warming up to each other, so I flattered it with a question. It defines ‘dumbfounding’ as a state of being acutely astonished, creating a temporary condition of speechless amazement. Yep. It was bewildering that I’ve lived through so many Turkey Days yet recall so few details.

Momentarily, that is. The floodgates creaked open and I stepped onto a bridge over churning memories all related to the day: children sitting in rows or sprawled on a livingroom floor; crayons, scraps of color and globs of glue squirted on torn-off corners scattered about; all eyes and fingers concentrated on turkey and pilgrim masterpieces to decorate teachers’ bulletin boards and a multitude of Coldspot refrigerators and curtained window panes.

Larger than most are images of my child’s seasonal art, which mandated a mad dash mid- column composition to rummage through a box of masterpieces in an upstairs room. Though I didn’t find any of the turkeys with the quizzical expressions my mind’s eye vividly sees, I did find third-grade assignments stacked in order by holiday, colors bold and cutouts still stuck tightly to the projects.

This Thanksgiving creation is missing the turkey! Instead, a creature resembling Nessie surfaces to ward off a ship in the harbor. The artist was already spouting editorial comments in third grade. The mate on board says, “Drop the anchor," while another on a little boat says, “Not here!” (Granted, my interpretation of the art might be as skewed as his history seems, but clearly the ship was in treacherous waters).

So as I ponder displaying it on the fridge as soon as this is finished, those churning images roll on to reveal trips to the country to visit grandparents cooking and heating with wood, adults elbow to elbow around large tables and cousins at little tables closer to the stove.

I can almost smell the food, hear the chatter and laughter, as I notice new faces replacing lost ones. I for sure feel the loving embrace of my heritage. (An image of the duck I prepared on my first Thanksgiving as a Mrs. surfaces. It was inedible - another story for another time).

May your memories bring you joy and gratitude as you create new ones. Happy Thanksgiving!