A Tradition of Memories

With Thanksgiving upon us, I was just looking back on some of my childhood Thanksgivings.   I wish I could say I was as filled with a grateful heart to God, as much as I was with the turkey and all the fixing.  I grew up in a large family with four sisters and a brother, all of us squeezed into a 900 foot square house, with one bathroom, and only three bed rooms.   As the old saying goes, we didn’t know any better.   It never dawned on me that everyone should have their own bedroom.  We were happy and had parents who loved us.

I remember all of my buddies and I would meet at the school yard on Thanksgiving morning for a totally unorganized pick-up game of tackle football.  The fall air was crisp and the drizzle of rain made it all the more fun.

I remember the smell of the turkey in the oven and my mom rolling out fresh dough on the kitchen table for pies. Later in life I was also introduced to the most wonderful, homemade orange glaze rolls that Corrine’s mom made on Thanksgiving Day- best in the entire world.

On Thanksgiving Day, my dad, my brother and I would lug out the old extension ladder and began the annual process of stringing Christmas lights all along the roof line and porch railings.   It didn’t compare to McCaddenville or the Biltmore House, but it lit up the neighborhood. 

As I think back, I don’t remember anything spectacular or dazzling about Thanksgiving Day, just that feeling of warmth that comes with family, friends and home.   Come to think about it that is pretty spectacular, and a good reason to give thanks!

What about you?  What are your childhood memories of Thanksgiving Day?