by Linda Goodman
©Linda Goodman
1996
When my family lived in the
Appalachian Mountains of Virginia, the food that we ate at our Thanksgiving Day
meal was the same as what we ate on any other day: soup beans and cornbread. Occasionally, there would be meat, if Daddy
had been out hunting.
What made the meal different was a
ritual that my Daddy insisted upon observing on Thanksgiving. Before eating, each of us sitting around the
table would, one by one, give thanks for that for which he or she was most
grateful. Not having much in the way of
material possessions, our thanks usually were given for treasured
relationships. One year, after I had
recovered from a severe bout with pneumonia, I was surprised to hear my
brothers give thanks for my survival. It
changed the way I felt about them, and their constant teasing was easier to
take after that. I gave thanks for my
new baby sister. Mama was thankful for
well-behaved children, and Daddy was thankful that he had been blessed with
children who were thinkers. If you use
your head, you will come out ahead, he always said.
When we moved to the city,
Thanksgiving remained the same. My
parents refused to assimilate into the city culture, and so our meals and
rituals never changed. We children
eventually adopted city ways, but Mama and Daddy held to the old ways until
their deaths.
The Thanksgiving after they passed
away, my sister and her family came to spend the holiday with me in
Connecticut. I fixed a traditional meal
of turkey, dressing, and various side dishes.
Before eating, my sister and I decided to reinstate the old ritual that
we had taken part in so often. One by
one our children gave thanks. My
daughter was thankful for the new dress she had gotten for the Christmas dance
at school. My nephew was thankful for
his Nintendo. My niece was glad that her
allowance had been increased. No one
mentioned family or friends.
I abandoned the ritual after
that. It just was not the same with its
new emphasis on material possessions. On
Thanksgiving day, we have a bountiful meal and good companionship. Everyone seems happy. But I always make sure to take a few minutes
alone to give thanks for the wonderful man who taught me that it is not who you
are, but how you live, that matters most; and that anyone who has a loving
family is rich indeed.
