Newsletter - November 07'

Well, the holidays are here, and I’m just not prepared for it all. But, I was thinking about Thanksgiving, as a young man. As a child, my little family always went back to Laurel, MS, to see both my grandmothers, and my uncle Charlie and aunt Mildred, along with that set of cousins.

Usually at my Mom’s mom’s house, my aunt Martha and her son, Scott, would be there. My Mom and her sister and Grandma would bicker and resent each other most of the day! Sometimes their other sister, Kathy, would come, too. She had money, and it seems all the sisters resented her. My sister, Kim, and I didn’t like Scott, so he was always following us around, while we tried to play without him. My Dad tried to just avoid most everything, but he and I messed with Grandma - joked a lot and laughed, as she was a tough old bird (still is) and had been on her own for a good while. She had red hair for so much of her life, and had her own house in a nice, old neighborhood, and I think lots of older guys thought she was a catch. I believe she rebuffed many an advance - though I do remember her marrying a guy for about 2 weeks! But, I think she found out he was a loser.

Her house was filled with little things that I had to hold and look at, on each visit. There was a box filled with very old dollar coins, some from the late 1800's - she’d eventually give me and my sister one each. Mine is smooth as a beach stone - like it was something kept in a pocket and rubbed for luck. I like to think my Grandfather, who I never met, kept that with him. There were soaps shaped like roses, which we could not use. There was an old organ in one bedroom that had preset sounds, and me and Kim would make noise. There was a bell on the doorstep, that I guess was for the mailman to "ding" when he dropped the mail. We always wanted to play with that, but I guess it got too noisy. I think we were told a lie, that the bell was to call the fireman in case of fire, "so don’t touch it." I’m sure it was annoying to the adults to hear that dinging.

The house was a little circle of rooms, that I loved to run around - through 3 sets of french doors of glass and wood, separating bedrooms from living room from dining room. They would close themselves, like those swinging doors in a saloon! There was a curio of glass and porcelain objects in the dining room, signifying travels from years back - salt and pepper shakers looking like people, or happy fruit - spoons and shot glasses from exotic towns on long-gone highways. Nothing ever moved from it’s resting place.

The food: more vegetables than any kid would ever have a nightmare about - fresh greens, lima beans, string beans, and cream corn - I loved all those. They were all fresh. It always occurs to me that we ate more great veggies as kids in Mississippi than many of my friends I’d meet later. There were gag reflex veggies, like squash - all mushy, in a yellow pile of goo. I still resent that now, but like it just sliced and sauteed today.

There were candied sweet potatoes and sweet potato pie in the oven. There was dressing - a dry mix of bread, celery, and eggs that had to be choked down, without a perfect circle of cranberry product on top. There was a dry turkey; that sure could’ve used a Cajun’s magic - but, at that time, none of us had ever really met one.

Oh, but there was something that I begged for, asked about, requested, and my folks knew it was all I wanted - chicken and dumplings! Just a swamp of lard, dough, and juicy chicken, slaved over to create my favorite holiday dish of all time. You plop that between all those dry things, and viola, its savory juices and fat saved the day. Seconds and thirds always were in order. Save just a little room for pecan pie!

Sometimes, later that day, we’d go see my Dad’s Mom, and Uncle Charlie and Aunt Mildred, and all my cousins, just across town (my folks were high school sweethearts - does that happen, anymore?). Sometimes we’d go the next day. There was more food, but any visit to that house was just fun. There were woods everywhere of huge pines, needles and cones everywhere, neighbor’s horses to feed by hand, an outdoor BBQ pit - the house had levels and was masculine, filled with guns and dark wood. I would sit quietly and was shy there, but I loved all of them, so much. My cousins had cool Plymouth cars, like Dusters and Super Bees - my cousin, Debbie, was gorgeous and probably my first crush... hehe. My Dad’s Mom was the sweetest woman I think I’ve ever met - like an angel. She left my life so long ago, but I remember some things....

We’d only spend one night, as that was really all we were up for. My family was it’s own little cell, and we didn’t seem to have time to be a big, extended family. In later years, in high school, Thanksgiving pretty much stayed at my own home, as both my folks are great cooks (Dad beginning later, like me). I’d have a few buddies come over, and we’d toss the football for a while, then enjoy similar stuff to the Mississippi menu. Mom added some cream cheese, fruit-topped pies that were awesome. My buddy, Charles, seemed to just be there for the rolls! Things seemed to dwindle after that, as I grew up, left home, my folks split up, my sister got married, and I was involved with my own relationships. Once in a while, I’d be invited to a big Thanksgiving dinner, with too many folks to even try to remember names, and tons of new, home-made foods. These days, I usually go to my Dad’s and his wife’s home - and it is a crowd, indeed. Last year, I did my first Thanksgiving cooking, in my first, non-apartment home. I guess I’ll always be a late bloomer - and it was a day late, too. But, I loved the cooking and at least one table of my family with me.

The obligation of holidays can be distressing, no doubt. But, I envy you if you are going to a relative’s home, packing food in the back seat, setting up a card table for the kids, dreading the conversation with the cousin, hugging 12 grand kids, holding the new baby, asking "what is this and who made it?," hearing the same story from Grandma for the 15th year, stuffing people in a kitchen like circus midgets in a car, loosening the belt in front of the Detroit game if you can get a comfortable chair, and being so exhausted as the late arrivers are just coming in for the afternoon feeding - while knowing you have to go to your spouse’s relative’s house for dinner! Sop that up with a biscuit - you’re lucky and blessed! Happy Thanksgiving.....

Richard Abbott lost his father on October 29. God bless you, my friend. Happy Birthday to Bo Jamison - you’re a great buddy. If you read all this, thanks for indulging my ramblings, and perhaps it coaxed some memories from your dark recesses.

Come see me,

Kirk