Over the years I have accumulated my share of enough memorable memories of Thanksgiving Day feast, but there are always a few that remain dear even for all the wrong reasons. The earliest I remember goes as far back as 1957 and I happened to be eight years of age.
The table was nicely set with a tablecloth and I recall there was a candleholder with four white slender candles that bathed the room in deep warm amber tones. There was a small ceiling lamp that filled in the darker empty areas and the only reason I remember this particular Thanksgiving Day was that I could not stop talking.
I was certainly a chatterbox that evening and even after repeated warnings to button it up, I just would not listen. When all of a sudden out of nowhere, my mother’s hand struck my left cheek, but her astonishment and mine, my father’s hand had struck my right cheek at the same time I felt the burning sting on the other side of my face.
There was a momentary silence as my parents looked at each other in a bewildered surprise, while I turned my head from one side to the other looking at each of them with my own shocked expression before all three of us busted out laughing.
Now I cannot recall if I did finally keep quiet and paid attention to dinner or continued talking, I can say that it was that the following month my father won in a raffle a huge unabridged Webster’s Dictionary, which was presented to me on Christmas Day.
Thank you for stopping by and I hope you are
surrounded with the sounds of laughter
and the fragrances of good food set
among family and friends on this