Thanksgiving and Christmas don’t mix. Here is how I know: I’ll turn off the T.V. at the end of a Hallmark or Lifetime Christmas movie, my eyes filled to the brim with red and green and glitter—all the colors of Christmas. I turn to my living room. Filled with orange and gold and brown and all the decorations of Thanksgiving. And everything tilts a little and my stomach gets queasy and I need to shut my eyes and allow them to adjust. Not a smidgen of Thanksgiving can be left in my house before the holly and ivy and other million billion things get put up. And THAT does not happen till after every bit of Thanksgiving dinner is digested.
But oh boy. What a great holiday Thanksgiving is. Worth celebrating every single day of November. At least till Black Friday. After all, there is so much to love. Here are a few loved by me—
Songs: “Let All Things Now Living (a Song of Thanksgiving) “For the Beauty of the Earth.” (Folliot S. Pierpoint ) Oodles more, but I am too lazy to look up the composers.
Books: These three, among others. I have never bonded with an adult book on Thanksgiving.
The one in the center is the newest favorite with my grandchildren and I. SO FUN TO READ!
Vintage decorations: These are my maiden decorations, purchased many years before I married and I was a fledgling Thanksgiving devotee.
Favorite show/movie: Movie? The Mouse and the Mayflower. Show? WKRP in Cincinnati‘s episode “The Turkey Drop.” As God is my witness, I thought turkeys could fly.
Favorite Food: Apple Pie. MY apple pie. Oh, and my Tollhouse Pie. Then there is my sister’s pecan pie. My daughter-in-law’s cranberry sauce, my other daughter-in-law’s sweet potato casserole…that is more than one favorite, you say? Hey, I didn’t make the rules.
Old tradition: The hayride after supper to jostle all our food into a corner of our stomachs so we can come back and eat the above-mentioned pies.
New tradition: Spoons. Our crew plays for blood. And sometimes marriages are stressed. All in good, clean fun. (We hide the small children and tiny adults when the game begins.)
At Thanksgiving, I’m surrounded by blessings. Family, friends, food, fun. So many good things begin with “F.” Faith too. The top of the list, the beginning and the end, the gift of God to grab hold of the grace so freely given.
I’m thankful for you, too, my friends. There are problems galore with social media and the blog world. But so far, none of them have showed up here. What a classy group you are. Happy Thanks Giving—even if you are not an American. You are a blessing.
You’ve written what is in my heart and brain! How did you know? Thank you, thank you. I love your musings.
Thank you, thank you!
Yes, yes, yes, yes, YES! Let’s go back to the year 1978. It was the first Thanksgiving as married kids. We decided to host a huge feast. Our basement rental had temporarily been upgraded to the upstairs and we had the room. Friends came early to help out. They brought tablecloths, which ended up being a gift: Christmas poinsettias. My heart sank. Christmas on Thanksgiving??? While my inner child threw a tantrum and enumerated ALL that was wrong with comingling holidays, I set our white Corelle dishes out and murmured thanks.
As you can see, I haven’t quite gotten over it.
Things like that can scar one deeply. I’m shuddering at the mental image of poinsettias along a cornucopia and rust colored candles.