Thanksgiving

What would Thanksgiving be without a turkey?

Photo Source: Maura Grierson’s Blog

Then lift up the head with a song!

And lift up the hands with a gift!

To the ancient giver of all

The spirit of gratitude lift!

For the joy and promise of Spring,

For the hay and clover sweet,

The barley, the rye, and the oats,

The rice and the corn and the wheat,

The cotton and sugar and fruit,

The flowers and the fine honeycomb,

The country, so fair and so free,

The blessing and the glory of home...

—Anonymous ~1894

Last night was the coldest of the new winter so far. I slept well for the first time in a while because of the change in the weather. I woke rested and feeling good before the alarm went off.

Before we could leave to see my dad, we had to watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade—well, at least the opening act. The daughter of one of our friends from church was a dancer in a show tune. She was one of 600 girls selected from across the nation to participate. That’s quite an honor—almost worth a trip to NYC. (Suna thinks we might have even seen her. I haven’t a clue.)

Then we were off to Dad’s. It was good to see him looking so healthy. He has put on a bit of weight since he can’t work like he used to. I do worry about him being so alone. He has only his cat now since he sold his remaining cattle. Still, I worried about him taking care of the cattle. They are so much bigger than he is, and his reflexes aren’t what they once were.

This year, Dad decided to plant winter wheat. After a Spring that was almost too wet to plant, he is worried that his wheat is very patchy because it has been too dry. It looks as if the birds and insects may have had their Thanksgiving dinner early. The south field looks OK, but the north field is more barren than growing. He hopes that some promised rain this weekend may help. I sure hope so.

This doesn’t capture the extent of the line, but I don’t really think that’s the point. Is it?
Photo by Suna

Thanksgiving Dinner was at Furr’s cafeteria. They have a decent buffet, and Dad really enjoyed it. He ate a lot, almost as much as I did. The line was long, and the wind at the entrance was cold. But we eventually made it inside where it was warm and the food smelled so good. There was a wide selection to choose from. The only bad thing was that the turkey on the turkey and dressing had the flavor and texture of soggy paper. The dressing was good, and there was real turkey breast waiting to be sliced a little farther down the line. That turkey was perfect. Dad says it was the best he ever had, but he says that about everything in his most recent meal&mdahs;it’s either the best or the worst ever.

What amazed me about the whole Furr’s experience was the line. They couldn’t keep people moving through the line fast enough to keep the dining area anywhere near full. And that was with people taking their sweet time eating, visiting, and digesting over the meal. Makes you wonder.

Then it was back to Dad’s house to watch the Cowboys take on the Jets. I think the game was entertaining, but I slept through much of it. Damned tryptophan. All I really remember of the game was the companionship and that the ‘boys won. OK. They smacked the Jets.

Then home: all-in-all, a little more than seven hours behind the wheel. We relaxed a bit and went to bed. It was about as good as it gets on Thanksgiving.