A Real Thanksgiving Memory

Family Traditions  - 2010

Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday.  Growing up in Watertown, MA my memories of those family feasts are of happy times.  The holiday began on Thanksgiving Eve when my mother would start preparing the stuffing.  The house would be full of delicious odors as mounds of chopped onions and celery and  breakfast sausage were sauteed,  then mixed with bread crumbs, seasoning, and “secret Irish spices” – which was our joking reference to plain salt and pepper.

Mom would be up at six the next morning, making the final preparations and getting the turkey into the oven.  By the time we kids got out of bed, the house was already warm with the aroma of roasting turkey.  Store-bought turkeys always came with a bag of bird parts, called “giblets.”  Mom would boil the giblets in a pan to feed them to the cats, so they could have Thanksgiving too.

I read somewhere that some of our most vivid memories are associated with odor.  To me, there is nothing that says “home” quite like the fragrance of a turkey cooking in the oven.  The whole house smells like peace love and harmony.

I have happy memories of those days when we were all young and healthy.  My grandparents came to our house for holiday feasts.  They lived in a tiny cottage near Revere Beach.  They would drive 17 miles east along winding Route 16  to our house on Robbins Road.  I still remember one time when they arrived at our house in the old maroon Plymouth sedan.  Grandpa was a careful driver and he would frequently get honked-at for moving too slowly for some speed demons.  He would respond with colorful curses picked up during his Navy days.   We were very amused when we asked my grandmother about the traffic, she remarked, “Well, there sure were a lot of bastards and son-of-a-bitches on the road today!” She was of course quoting the words Grandpa had yelled out the window to anyone who honked at him.  

Usually we kids would go to the Watertown-Belmont football game. Dad might walk down with us if the weather was good.  After the game we would return home, and the smell of the roasting turkey would hit us as we walked through the door.  We had various chores.  Mine was to peel and cut the turnip and squash for boiling.   While the vegetables were boiling, Mom would serve hors d’oeuvres of cooked shrimp, nuts, celery and olives. For drinks there was always chilled cider and sodas for the young people and plenty of bubbly for the adults.    

Finally the dinner would be served and eight of us would gather around the table.     We all stuffed ourselves on roast turkey with mashed potatoes, squash, turnip, green peas, cranberry jelly, dinner rolls.  Everyone raved about Mom’s gravy. She always said that it was because she used the same water that was used to boil the turnips and onions. I still do not know how mom got everything on the table while still piping hot.  We didn’t have microwaves back then.

A few years later my daughters would grow-up in Wellesley, but we celebrated Thanksgiving in a very similar manner. Thankfully, when the time came, my wife Judy took on the role of hostess and kept the same cherished recipes for stuffing, gravy, and all the rest: the traditional football game (against Needham), the dinner with all the fixin’s --  even the visiting grandparents.  .

A few years ago, the Thanksgiving baton was passed to my eldest daughter.  She has assumed the role as holiday hostess and will again be cooking the turkey this year.

Now, we are the visiting grandparents.  We will be driving over to Natick just after noon next Thursday. If you are going that way and you see a silver Camry that seems to be going too slowly, please refrain from honking. I am just being a careful driver. It runs in the family.