Thanksgiving in Simpler Times

Written by Cheryl Barker

As I watched the kids’ eyes glaze over from too many video games one Thanksgiving, I recalled my childhood Thanksgivings and realized how fortunate I was. Our family gatherings were at my grandparents’ farm in the days before video games and satellite dishes. I have priceless memories of Thanksgiving in simpler times.

When I was growing up, our Thanksgiving celebration bordered on a full-blown family reunion for my dad’s side of the family. Thanksgiving was especially important to Grandma because it was her holiday. She always had the dinner at her house, and everyone knew it was a tradition.

The excitement of Thanksgiving Day actually started on the drive to Grandpa and Grandma’s. When we turned off the highway onto the country road, I knew we were almost there. Driving in the country was an adventure. “Over the river and through the woods to Grandmother’s house we go” had special meaning to me because this echoed my own experience.

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Each Thanksgiving as we turned into the farmhouse lane, I wondered which cousins would be there to play with that day. I knew we would have adventures because there were always adventures to be had on the farm. With a little imagination, even the lane could become a dangerous road filled with wild creatures, rushing rivers, or deep gullies to cross. One thing was certain: cousins made it all the more exciting!

Sometimes we arrived early so my dad could go hunting with the other men. He kept his bird dog Cindy on the farm, and she always went wild with excitement when she saw us. The men must have had great times on those hunts together because they invariably came back talking, laughing, and poking each other with their elbows as if they knew something the rest of us did not.

Meanwhile, we all enjoyed the aromas that drifted out of Grandma’s kitchen and filled the air. Our taste buds were tantalized by the smell of turkey roasting, noodles cooking on the stove, and homemade rolls baking in the oven.

When dinner was finally ready, Grandma called us to the kitchen where we gathered for the Thanksgiving blessing. Grandpa called on one of the men to pray, and what a prayer it would be! Our family had a deep Christian heritage, and we had much to be thankful for, especially our Savior Jesus.

On other days when Grandpa didn’t pass the privilege on to someone else, I loved to hear him pray. His heart was so full that he almost always shed a tear or two when he gave thanks to his Lord.

Not only did our family know how to pray, we also knew how to eat! Confident that all our favorite foods would be there, we filled our plates from the countless delectable dishes that covered the kitchen countertop and stove.

Everything was made from scratch. Packaged noodles, rolls, and ready-made pie crusts were unheard of in our family. The pies were divine! Just about every kind of pie tempted us that day. Of course, pumpkin pie was a certainty along with the mincemeat pie Grandma made especially for my dad. We also got to choose from apple, cherry, lemon meringue, chocolate, coconut cream, and sometimes blackberry or peach. What a difficult decision! The adults usually decided to try a sliver of several different kinds, but I wanted a whole piece. I didn’t like skinny pieces, and neither did the other kids.

The adults sat in the dining room for dinner while the kids sat in the kitchen, but that was fine with us. We didn’t want to stick around for the boring talk after dinner, and we definitely wanted to be busy by cleanup time. We really didn’t have to worry though, because the women seemed to fight for the chance to wash and dry the dishes. I didn’t understand that until I got older.

Since my grandparents didn’t have a television, football didn’t dominate the afternoon. The grown-ups did lots of talking, and the kids did lots of playing and acting silly in general. If the weather was bad, we played in the basement, which was home to a scary-looking, coal-eating furnace; Grandma’s washer; a bed; and shelves filled with jars of food from Grandma’s summer canning. There was also room for roughhousing and riding the little John Deere tractor Grandpa kept for us. The basement echoed loudly with our noise, and before long one of our parents would seem to appear out of thin air and try to quiet us. Since that only seemed to work for a few minutes, everyone always hoped to have pleasant weather Thanksgiving afternoon.

When the weather was clear, we knew we could count on Grandpa to go outdoors with us. We were in seventh heaven tramping around the farm with Grandpa, listening to all of his tales.

Sometimes we played hide-and-seek in the barn or got daring and walked the rafters. I was afraid to do the things my country cousins dared me to do. I grew up a city girl and felt as if I was risking my life most of the time!

Grandpa also let us feed the chickens, milk the cows, and chase the wild kittens that were in abundance around the barn. He loved us and always made our visits fun.

Thanksgiving was a great day in the life of our family. I will be forever thankful for the wonderful family God blessed me with and for treasured memories of Thanksgiving in simpler times. As I share these memories with my children, their simple country heritage will live on.

Cheryl Barker is a homemaker and freelance writer in Coffeyville, Kansas. Keeping up with her two teenage daughters and her church work keep her busy.

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