Thanksgiving

Carrol Hanson Cook provided the following article from a magazine she receives. She said it would be okay to share the article with everyone. Hope you enjoy it.

I know those of you in the United States are probably hurrying to take care of holiday details, so I thought I would just share this simple memory of Thanksgiving back in my own Good Old Days.

In their later years -- after times had gotten better, children were grown and grandchildren were being enjoyed -- Mama and Daddy instituted a new family tradition. When we gathered for Thanksgiving, Daddy would, as always, ask someone (usually me) to ask a blessing on the food. Then he would ask us, in turn, to give a reason for being thankful. Some, particularly the young, were embarrassed by this ritual, but I was grateful that Daddy started something I could carry on into my own family.

When it came to Mama, her words were simple. She was thankful for Daddy, a good, faithful, hard-working man who was still the love of her life.

Then, lastly, it came to Daddy, the head of the extended family. You might think he would be thankful for a debt-free home for the first time in over 30 years ... or gas heat or ... a telephone that was not a quarter-mile away. No, my father looked around the table, and his eyes misted a bit. Then he intoned:

"I am just thankful to God that we can all share one more Thanksgiving together."

Mama and Daddy taught me early the value of thankfulness. In their estimation, there was always something to be thankful about, even in the direst of times and the darkest of circumstances. In their own loving way, my parents gave me what millions of other American parents from those hard-scrabble days gave their children. "It's always darkest before the dawn." "Every dark cloud has a silver lining." "There are always others who have it worse than we do." I remember those sayings taking us through a lot of lean seasons as we worked together to make a living on a rocky piece of ground in a three-room home where the only running water was when Daddy called, "Kenny, run get a bucket of water from the spring."

By their words, their actions and their love, they coined a new beatitude:

"Blessed are we, though we are poor, because we have our family together, our home, our health, and the good Lord above to see us through."

Thankfulness seems to have become a lost art. Even the holiday of Thanksgiving, that bastion of gratitude, has been transformed -- no, adulterated -- into "Turkey Day." Today we see more families gathering around the television for holiday football games than around the table with folded hands and thankful hearts. Even when giving thanks it seems that early-21st-century sophistication keeps folks from being thankful to the Giver of every good and perfect gift.

I remember the first Thanksgiving after Daddy died, and the feeling that the mantle had been thrust upon me. At the table, I asked the blessing on the food, and then the ritual of gratitude began again. When it came to me last, with tears in my eyes, I said, "I am just thankful to God that we can share one more Thanksgiving together."

Ken Tate
editor,
Good Old Days®
Good Old Days® Books
Good Old Days® Looking Back