My Thanksgiving table over forty-one years of marriage began with Paul’s two little boys, my parents from Linden, New Jersey and Paul’s parents from Dorchester/Mattapan, then expanded to include our own son and daughter.
My husband, a hairdresser by trade and an outdoorsman by nature, wielded sharp instruments expertly, whether an axe, a scissor, or a carving knife. After he sliced the turkey, he carefully aligned the pieces back on the frame and set the restored bird on the middle of the table. The kids laughed every time, believing that guests thought it was just out of the oven, untouched. Then, Paul dramatically separated the slices one by one and placed them on plates held upwards in his direction, a superb feat of domestic performance art.
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One year, at our friend Jean’s house, she took the turkey out of the oven and Paul instinctively picked up a piece of cutlery, on the ready to carve. On the other side of the oven, her gentleman friend also picked up a knife, assuming his position as man of the house for the holiday. For a split second, the two were poised as if ready to duel to the death — until Paul quickly figured that he had best surrender. I laugh at this still — my most vivid Thanksgiving memory.
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Our children left to seek their fortunes. The holiday evolved into an annual potluck gathering of our friends whose families did not live nearby. I enjoyed the camaraderie of a different group each year, preferring to stay in New England instead of traveling back to New Jersey. I took pride in being the member of my extended family who migrated to the state where the Pilgrims celebrated their first autumn harvest with the Wampanoag tribe in 1621 and cranberry bogs are cultivated on Cape Cod.
When I became caregiver for my husband in 2012, my life changed — and Thanksgiving Day changed too. I had hoped to keep family traditions and celebrate a beloved holiday, but that was not to be. I searched my soul to ask what was I to do — and my caregiver’s voice cried out: “Celebrate what you have now, don’t compare it to what you did before. Create another precious day together with your husband, in the way that will benefit him most. A quiet day, starting out as always with coffee and the Boston Globe, print edition. Franks and baked beans for lunch. No people he struggles to recognize. No table full of so much food and so many conversations that the room will look and feel different to him — dangerously so. No commotion in the kitchen or the doorbell ringing.”
I needed to protect him. It was simple as that. Nothing else mattered.
Nothing guarantees a joyful Thanksgiving every year — or that one year will be anything like the others. This was my year to understand that. I reached into my store of memories to keep me strong and grateful — especially so that I was able to care hands on for my husband in the way that he needed. We will stay in the warm house, watching the leaves blow in the November wind while we are safe inside, lighting the firewood at early dusk, paring down our lives to the essentials.
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The next year — 2013 — Paul was hospitalized on November fourth. Each morning, I drove to Addison Gilbert (Senior Adult Unit) to spend the day until ten at night. Our friend Dagmar brought us chicken salad sandwiches and homemade cookies in a picnic basket, a generous feast for my weary heart. Paul was still there on November 22nd, the holiday that we had no reason to celebrate.
On the way over, I stopped in at Wendy and Ric’s house to tell them I wouldn’t be coming for Thanksgiving dinner later that day. They quickly put together an early dinner plate for me and I accepted the sustenance offered. I knew I had to take in nourishment to focus on the life-altering decisions that awaited me.
The generosity of these dear friends who cared for the caregiver would surely help me face the terrifying days ahead. Shockingly to me, Paul never returned home.
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In 2014, I continued to care for my mother, the beautiful Rose, until her death in October. After that, and far into the next year, I grieved in earnest for my husband and the amazing paradise of our life, lost. I felt like an uninvited stranger peering into the warm light of countless windows — but unable to find a home base to quiet the emotions that had shaken me to the core.
I’m not sure exactly when the crossover happened, when the healing that I could not envision felt real. I finally permitted myself to bring optimism into my life and joy into my house again. For Thanksgiving in 2016, I invited four people from a literary discussion group I had joined earlier in the year.
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We took a walk to Long Hill Estate in late afternoon and returned for the holiday meal. I looked around the table and saw four people I had not known the year before, David (and his friend David), Nese, and Jill, who all needed a place to go on this day — and that place was here. I delighted in opening my home and preparing a bountiful vegetarian table, my nurturing instincts fulfilled.
I lit a fire and the dry wood crackled energetically, warming my guests as they conversed with vigor, humor, ease and good will. I felt elated, for me a private but sacred moment of uniting in new and life-affirming friendships.
This is what a Thanksgiving of change looks like, taking its welcome place in my memories of this holiday over the passage of years.
Another wonderful essay on the changes we need to allow and make in our lives as we lose loved ones from the past and focus on what we have now.
Thank you Donna, I know you understand…
Thanksgiving means family, getting together, celebrating with great food and people. The story does change over the years sometimes with heartache and then, alas, a way to welcome joy again. I encourage my children to cling together and they make the food of their memories with calls to me on “how to do” even though I was not much of a cook it was what they remembered as comforting. This year I get to share with them and grandchildren so I am truly blessed remembering to live in the moment…..for that is what we have. I wish you a wonderful holiday, Barrie, with your ever-changing stories and may this one be cherished along with all the others. Your blog is beautiful and insightful. Thank you for sharing.
Betsy, you make an important point, how food – the memories, the favorite recipes handed down, the appreciation for the relatives who spent time in the kitchen – is a connecting link each time. I wish you a great holiday in return, with your family and the little ones taking it all in, just like we did. Feels good!
A beautiful and evocative essay, Barrie! This time of year is often poignant. Losing Thanksgiving was a price I paid for moving to France. There is no vacation here now and it’s been more than three decades since I’ve been able to join family and friends for this singular holiday. I remember one particular Thanksgiving at your parents’ house around the big table, when I was a little girl. I can see it all clearly in my mind and remember everyone. Much love!
Yes, those Thanksgivings of old were sweet, never to be forgotten. As you know, there is no T-day in Israel, so us USA cousins left behind will keep it up – and one day you will fill the seat awaiting you!
Poignant nostalgia, Barrie. Yes, as we age, holidays and traditions seem to change as much as we do. The Thanksgiving and Christmases of the past were so different from the ones Bill and I experience today – not good, not bad, just not the same, but appreciated.
I applaud you for bringing the optimism back into your life, for offering up your home and kitchen and opening your door to new people and new experiences. Let us know what you do this year…Happy Thanksgiving
My best wishes for a blessed holiday – remembering your mom…
Deborah and I had a brisk walk today at Breakheart, hope to see you there one of these days.
Another nicely crafted poignant tale of change, treasured memories, moving on, holding on.
This year I am having Thanksgiving downstairs, where my daughter and boyfriend are living, in our two-family house, where Michael and I live upstairs. This is a first: we always went to NJ to be with my mother. But my brother is in NJ now, visiting from India, and he and his wife will keep my mom company. It feels important that I share Thanksgiving with my daughter this year, who is happy but was miserable for the past few Thanksgivings, post divorce. So we have a lot to be grateful for, including my first grandchild, although she and her parents, my daughter and son in law, will be celebrating in a new community in CA, where someone they hardly know graciously invited them to Thanksgiving dinner. Different configuration, and grateful for all of them.
Hi Carol, your “configuration” for this year seems perfect, clusters of family in the best places they can be for the day. Thank you for sharing this beautiful account of how everyone is taking care of each other in meaningful ways.
Very insightful essay on the ways that holidays and celebrations change throughout the years due to changing circumstances. We start out as children celebrating with family, then get married and alternate or share with two families, then have children get married and alternate or share with their two families. However, and with whomever, we celebrate, we are always making new and enjoyable memories. Hope you and yours have a wonderful holiday this year.
Judy, your persiective is so interesting, thanks for spelling it out. It feels good to be a part of this process. Many families not as fortunate, sadly…
Your essay was so warming to me to read. Thank you for sharing, I know how hard it is to be a caregiver also, I had my mom and my brother Don, who had been attacked and had brain damage and I was the one to care for him and also the last year of my mom life. With holidays and events changing each year it was great that you started a new tradition. I am lucky that my husband and I are still here to celebrate together. So sorry for your loss and so happy that you have turned around your grief in a wonderful way and sharing your beautiful words with all. Hugs to you and your family during this holiday
Hi Pat, I deeply appreciate your compassionate reply to my piece. You understand and accept the joys and sorrows of life, what choice do we have? And Thank You for your holiday wishes – my daughter and little grandson taking the train up from New York City and I am filled with anticipation. You and your husband and family have a beautiful day. And thank you for supporting my writing by following my blog, I’ll try to live up to expectations!
Thank you for sharing your warm thoughts and writing talent with us. Yes, we change, the world changes…change is one of the few sure things.
Hi Jean, always great to hear from you. Still remembering the wonderful reunion. And you are so right…
I was so very touched by your beautiful essay. You need to write a book because you truly are an author. Thanksgivings and holidays truly do change and the memories are sweet. This will be my fifth Thanksgiving without my beloved Sam and I’m moving forward, appreciating what I have now and also what I had before. I’m having 10 for dinner and looking forward to seeing my 6-month old grand niece, Emily. Have a wonderful Thanksgiving, Barrie. I so appreciate your blog.
Thank you Thea for your kind and supportive words. I’m sure your day will be wonderful. It’s amazing how the little ones bring pure joy into our lives.
Hope to see you at the Tea House on December 5th.
You always write so beautifully, Barrie. I always enjoy reading what you write.
Thank you Anne. This new creative part of my life is very satisfying. And, you and Richard enjoy your Thanksgiving, a day you don’t have to work!
Hi Barrie, I always enjoy reading your writing pieces. They are sensitive and moving; Plus truthful and encouraging. Thank you for sharing your memoirs. Your transition of change is smooth and I loved the vision of the almost dueling swords. Best wishes and Happy Thanksgiving. Diane
Best wishes to you and Vladdy Mars for a lovely day. I appreciate your comments — and in return want to let you know how much I enjoy your writing too. Your piece about Thanksgiving changing over the years was beautifully expressed.
I enjoy your blog so much Barrie, and feel privileged to have the opportunity to read it. ( Iam sorry for your loss)
Your ability to move on , in spite of heartbreaking times , is to be commended. Having had a rocky ride myself, I know how difficult that is.
Definetely though, facing things, and being grateful for what we have, is the way up!!
You appear to be giving it your all.
I hope you have a wonderful Thanksgiving with your Daughter and her family.
Bless
Hi Kathy, hope your holiday plans are all set, enjoy the Thanksgiving day and its blessings. I’m grateful for many things, including what you so honestly share in class about your life (good times and otherwise). All the best, Barrie
Another beautiful essay, Barrie. I am sure this transition is difficult, but you come through it with grace and optimism. I love your honesty. Thank you.
Hi Jan, its in the 60s up here today, enjoying the long Thanksgiving weekend. Thanks as always for your “complimentary comments”!
Thanks for sharing this piece Barrie. The holidays can be difficult for many but finding ways of making new memories can sometimes bring surprising joy. This year we again delivered turkey meals to elders through the Legion in Gloucester and then met up with friends who did the same at a Dunkin Donuts in Gloucester. The 4 of us decided we have probably established a new tradition….maybe a little unconventional – Dunkin Donuts does not come first to my mind when I think of Thanksgiving!….but it was a great way to spend a few hours being thankful for so many blessings.
Good going Jayne! As for me, I enjoyed a visit with my daughter and little grandson, up from New York City on Amtrak — family time ❤️💛💜