With the arrival of the Thanksgiving holiday, my thoughts have once again returned to to center of my Turkey day memories -- and to the things that I am grateful for the most. Thanksgiving has always been synonymous with Grandma Armstrong -- and I will always make that association. Though she has been gone for a few years, never does she live on stronger than at this time of year. My Thanksgiving memories all revolve around Grandma Armstrong -- and the dinner that was a major an event that took at least a week to prepare. Without fail this dinner entailed the formal china, which once belonged to my great-grandmother -- her mother -- and is now close to 200 years old. And then there was the crystal, and the silver. The silver was polished a week before Thanksgiving, and that was about the time my complaining began. I hated polishing the silver. every little crevice, nook, and cranny -- and not just on the silverware -- but the Turkey platter, and all the serving bowls as well. My grandmother would meticulously plan every little bit of the dinner, and make sure the table looked like a formal, black tie affair.
My mother was usually the on that was on the Turkey detail -- but grandma never allowed anyone else to handle the pumpkin chiffon pie, and the cranberry sauce. One of which (the pie), is my favorite still, to this day, and one (the cranberries), that I could still do without.
Grandma had an old buffet side board cabinet that was used for serving the food, and both it, and the table held long taper candles that were lit just before the dinner was served, and remained burning throughout the whole dinner. The meal was always served on a white table cloth -- and even from my very earliest memories, I remember wondering how she always got it clean -- since we always spilled cranberry sauce on it year after year.
The dinner was a chaotic affair -- as it usually is with children around the table. And grandma spent the entire meal warning us to sit down, and be careful. It is a wonder she never had a heart attack just trying to get through that dinner, without one, or all of us kids bringing down the table, the turkey, or even the entire house.
Once dinner was over, we had the opportunity to sit in grandma's den, and watch the Wizard of Oz -- while the adults ate their pie in peace, and then meticulously cleaned up the mess.
Grandma Armstrong always personified Thanksgiving dinner, and many of the traditions established by her parents, are still carried on today. It is for this reason that I always associate Thanksgiving, with Grandma Armstrong. This meal became a central component of our family life, and eventually turned into Sunday family dinner. Thanksgiving has always been a little bit harder since she has been gone. Probably because all aspects of this meal remind me of her.
As I reflect back on Grandma Armstrong, and all that she did and inspired in my life, I can't help but think of how different things are now that she is gone. But there is so much of her that lives on in the memories, actions, and lives of her loved ones -- those that remember her best. Following her passing, I found in my journal a piece I wrote, and dedicated to her memory. I leave that with you -- as a tribute to one of the greatest women I have ever known. She will always be one of the pillars of my life, and I am so grateful that I had the opportunity to know her.
The Orchard
I stand at the window,
looking out on the forsaken apple trees;
denuded sentinels protected by faded, fallen foliage.
Behind me whistles an indrawn breath
from the last keeper of a once proud orchard.
Like the wind blowing through the barren branches,
her breath sighs out of the labored, tired lungs.
In the darkness she moves with a quiet rustle of sheets,
shifting in harmony with the dried leaves on the frozen ground.
"If you listen closely -- you'll hear the trees sing."
The words echo in the back of my grieving mind.
