- Jun 27, 2003
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A THANKSGIVING MEMORY
by Diane Dean White
My Dad's parents lived in a small town several hours north from the city where I grew up in Michigan. Over the years it was always a special time when we could make that trip to see Grandma and Grandpa and celebrate Thanksgiving at their home.
When Dad got home as early as possible from work the Wednesday before Thanksgiving Day, Mother made sure we were ready to go so the drive would allow as much light before the winter darkness sat in. My younger brother and I eagerly watched as we left the city lights and snowflakes falling, all bundled up in the back seat of Dad's old Studebaker.
The trip north was around three hours in good weather and our half waypoint was the small town called Frankenmuth. We continued our drive, having a sandwich and apple, which Mom packed for the trip. At one point we no longer had a highway to use, as two lane country roads took over and the snowflakes started to come down a lot harder.
As so often happens during the winter months snowstorms come with or without warning, and I suppose even with a warning Dad would never let the snow stop him. We all learned to drive in snow; it was part of life in the winter wonderland state.
When we were about an hour from our Grandparent's home, the country roads never seemed so long. The snow was falling all around us and the windshield wipers cleared a small area of vision as Dad seemed to plow his way through the heavily fallen flakes at a slow speed. Mother would give us half cups of hot chocolate to keep us warm, and there was no radio, but we would sing songs together to help pass the time.
When we finally arrived at the large older home, activity inside and warmth radiated as the front porch light went on and our Grandparents welcomed us. A fire was blazing in the old fireplace and smells that were part of the Thanksgiving feast preparation flowed throughout the house. It was late as the trip had taken a long time. Within moments I took my night bag upstairs to my favorite bedroom. A bedside table held a lamp that was lit and the four-poster bed with the old mattress and feather pillows awaited me. The room was chilly as the registers were located in the central areas of the home, which was kept heated by coal. The bedroom windows had lace curtains and pull down shades, which helped keep the cold air from the frosty windows. An old dressing table held various photographs of my Dad and Uncle in their service uniforms from W.W.II I heard chatter from the hallways as others were going to their rooms and quickly jumped into bed and pulled the covers over me, looking forward to the day ahead.
On Thanksgiving morning I got up in time to see Grandma baste the large turkey that had been baking in the oven since early morning. I watched as she poured batter from a bowl into molds that she would place in a steamer with shallow water, and steam them in the side oven for several hours. It was her wonderful Thanksgiving pudding. She had baked pies that were kept cool in the pantry outside the screened in porch, as the small refrigerator was full of other good things.
The large dinning room table was set and additional seating was made up from card tables and chairs. My Dad's older sisters and families were coming in from town and I couldn't wait to see my cousins! When we sat down to dinner the table was laden with so much food, and Grandma's favorite dishes which had belonged to her Mother were used for the family gathering. After the prayer was said, everyone talked in all directions enjoying the food and fellowship. Sometimes pies and cake was served, but we always waited until late afternoon for Grandma's special Thanksgiving pudding and "secret" sauce.
Women helped clear the tables and someone set up a board game to play. Since we had so much snow, we kids decided to go out and build a snowman first. An overcast day was typical of Thanksgiving time in Michigan, often with clouds that promised more snow to come. We trudged through the high snow to pack it, rolling smaller balls into larger ones, to build our snowman. The boys often built forts, but the girls enjoyed making "Frosty" and we told our storybook character that he'd better stay and not melt until we could come out again and play with him!
Family members were gathered in the living room, kitchen, dining room and talking and laughing with one another. After we placed out snowsuits and mittens away to dry, we all gathered around the piano to sing as Grandma played a variety of songs. One that we always sang was "Put On Your Old Gray Bonnet." There was no television to watch, and when the time was right bowls of hot steaming pudding with a "secret" sauce was given to everyone to enjoy. It was a simple time, a fun trip, years ago, with Grandparents and family members who made it all worthwhile.
When I became a young wife I invited Grandma to come and spend Thanksgiving with us. We would be going to my parent's home for dinner, but I asked her if she would show me how to make her special Thanksgiving pudding and "secret" sauce. Grandma brought her molds and steamer and we mixed up the ingredients and placed them in the oven, allowing the pudding to steam to perfection. We used a double boiler for the sauce. It contained sugar, butter and other ingredients, and when we got to my Parent's home, she asked my Dad for some rum to use. That had been her "secret" ingredient! I was amazed, as my Grandmother who never allowed liquor in her home, made an exception for this favorite pudding!
Many years later it tastes almost as good as it did when Grandma made it. And when I look at the handwriting on her recipe card, a wisp of sorrow that she isn't here today to see new family members and enjoy the festivities run through my mind. As each New Year arrives, I am thankful for those precious memories which God in His wisdom has given us, and I know our table will seat older loved ones and young children alike. I now look forward to the future to build new memories, and just like the Thanksgiving Pudding; I realize this is part of a family tradition that we cherish and are passing on to the next generation.
Submitted by Richard
by Diane Dean White
My Dad's parents lived in a small town several hours north from the city where I grew up in Michigan. Over the years it was always a special time when we could make that trip to see Grandma and Grandpa and celebrate Thanksgiving at their home.
When Dad got home as early as possible from work the Wednesday before Thanksgiving Day, Mother made sure we were ready to go so the drive would allow as much light before the winter darkness sat in. My younger brother and I eagerly watched as we left the city lights and snowflakes falling, all bundled up in the back seat of Dad's old Studebaker.
The trip north was around three hours in good weather and our half waypoint was the small town called Frankenmuth. We continued our drive, having a sandwich and apple, which Mom packed for the trip. At one point we no longer had a highway to use, as two lane country roads took over and the snowflakes started to come down a lot harder.
As so often happens during the winter months snowstorms come with or without warning, and I suppose even with a warning Dad would never let the snow stop him. We all learned to drive in snow; it was part of life in the winter wonderland state.
When we were about an hour from our Grandparent's home, the country roads never seemed so long. The snow was falling all around us and the windshield wipers cleared a small area of vision as Dad seemed to plow his way through the heavily fallen flakes at a slow speed. Mother would give us half cups of hot chocolate to keep us warm, and there was no radio, but we would sing songs together to help pass the time.
When we finally arrived at the large older home, activity inside and warmth radiated as the front porch light went on and our Grandparents welcomed us. A fire was blazing in the old fireplace and smells that were part of the Thanksgiving feast preparation flowed throughout the house. It was late as the trip had taken a long time. Within moments I took my night bag upstairs to my favorite bedroom. A bedside table held a lamp that was lit and the four-poster bed with the old mattress and feather pillows awaited me. The room was chilly as the registers were located in the central areas of the home, which was kept heated by coal. The bedroom windows had lace curtains and pull down shades, which helped keep the cold air from the frosty windows. An old dressing table held various photographs of my Dad and Uncle in their service uniforms from W.W.II I heard chatter from the hallways as others were going to their rooms and quickly jumped into bed and pulled the covers over me, looking forward to the day ahead.
On Thanksgiving morning I got up in time to see Grandma baste the large turkey that had been baking in the oven since early morning. I watched as she poured batter from a bowl into molds that she would place in a steamer with shallow water, and steam them in the side oven for several hours. It was her wonderful Thanksgiving pudding. She had baked pies that were kept cool in the pantry outside the screened in porch, as the small refrigerator was full of other good things.
The large dinning room table was set and additional seating was made up from card tables and chairs. My Dad's older sisters and families were coming in from town and I couldn't wait to see my cousins! When we sat down to dinner the table was laden with so much food, and Grandma's favorite dishes which had belonged to her Mother were used for the family gathering. After the prayer was said, everyone talked in all directions enjoying the food and fellowship. Sometimes pies and cake was served, but we always waited until late afternoon for Grandma's special Thanksgiving pudding and "secret" sauce.
Women helped clear the tables and someone set up a board game to play. Since we had so much snow, we kids decided to go out and build a snowman first. An overcast day was typical of Thanksgiving time in Michigan, often with clouds that promised more snow to come. We trudged through the high snow to pack it, rolling smaller balls into larger ones, to build our snowman. The boys often built forts, but the girls enjoyed making "Frosty" and we told our storybook character that he'd better stay and not melt until we could come out again and play with him!
Family members were gathered in the living room, kitchen, dining room and talking and laughing with one another. After we placed out snowsuits and mittens away to dry, we all gathered around the piano to sing as Grandma played a variety of songs. One that we always sang was "Put On Your Old Gray Bonnet." There was no television to watch, and when the time was right bowls of hot steaming pudding with a "secret" sauce was given to everyone to enjoy. It was a simple time, a fun trip, years ago, with Grandparents and family members who made it all worthwhile.
When I became a young wife I invited Grandma to come and spend Thanksgiving with us. We would be going to my parent's home for dinner, but I asked her if she would show me how to make her special Thanksgiving pudding and "secret" sauce. Grandma brought her molds and steamer and we mixed up the ingredients and placed them in the oven, allowing the pudding to steam to perfection. We used a double boiler for the sauce. It contained sugar, butter and other ingredients, and when we got to my Parent's home, she asked my Dad for some rum to use. That had been her "secret" ingredient! I was amazed, as my Grandmother who never allowed liquor in her home, made an exception for this favorite pudding!
Many years later it tastes almost as good as it did when Grandma made it. And when I look at the handwriting on her recipe card, a wisp of sorrow that she isn't here today to see new family members and enjoy the festivities run through my mind. As each New Year arrives, I am thankful for those precious memories which God in His wisdom has given us, and I know our table will seat older loved ones and young children alike. I now look forward to the future to build new memories, and just like the Thanksgiving Pudding; I realize this is part of a family tradition that we cherish and are passing on to the next generation.
Submitted by Richard
