Thanksgiving Memories

As I looked through the hundreds of blogs, short stories, articles or just plain musings I've written over the years, the topic of Thanksgiving wins hands down and takes the lead for "most items written about one subject". Either it's a time of year when I have less to do and more free time on my hands or it's more of an emotional period and I find that writing allows me to express and share those feelings.

I also find that the stories act somewhat like a key to helping me remember where I was living or what I was dong that particular year. Although some of the stories become a little more embellished each time I share them, the events as I recall them pretty much took place... well, sorta. One of my  favorites allowed me to remember a time when doing things like riding a bus downtown with my friends when we were barely 10 years old, in order to bring home a live turkey.

Another one that brings back a fun time was when the entire "Williams" family, my in-laws, and I all went camping on Thanksgiving and we cooked our turkey and sides on a bed of coals from the campfire.

The first Thanksgiving I spent away from my immediate family was my freshman year at the University of Oklahoma in 1966. Because of the expense of flying and the distance of 1,000 miles from Dayton, Ohio and it was too far to drive in such a short time, I ended up spending the holiday with my college roommate and his family. The companionship was great. The food was great, but just not being home, brought a little sadness.

One year later, I found myself again at OU during Thanksgiving with no plans to get back to Dayton for the holiday. I didn't have a car my sophomore year, I think it had something to day with really bad grades, so I decided to catch a ride to Nashville with a friend and then maybe hitchhike on to Dayton and perhaps talking Mom and Dad into taking my car back. I remember somehow getting to Vanderbilt University and going to the local chapter of my college fraternity and then somehow ending up in Dayton, I think by flying stand-by. Who knows. I guess it's just another one of those chapters in my life that seemed normal at the time. I did get to take my car back to college though.

Three years later I found myself once again separated from my family while I enjoyed my Thanksgiving meal alone at Basic Training for the U.S. Air Force. The companionship existed of 45 of us in our flight that we spent 24 hours a day looking at each other, the food was standard mess hall chow and the sadness, well, there was that also.

From Ohio to Oklahoma to Virginia and back to Oklahoma to New Mexico and finally to Texas every stop, every location, every address has a memory.

For the first 18 years I can remember Mom cooking the turkey down in the basement. Now, and yes, it makes me smile to even tell this anecdote, all those years Mom would cook the turkey in a little second oven, that Dad had connected in the basement. I guess they had bought a new oven at one point and they just decided to keep the old one. The kitchen was so small it was almost like a blast furnace in there by the time all of the burners and oven were fired up. Poor Mom would traipse up and down those stairs 20 or 30 times on Thanksgiving morning checking on the turkey.

In those early years it seems like right after a full belly of turkey and right before any drowsiness set in, we would gather in the neighborhood for some touch football unless of course an early season snowfall would cover the ground.

As the years went by, our own traditions would begin to evolve but of course the mainstay of the tradition was certainly the turkey but football was always included.

There was the infamous Dallas Cowboy football game of 1993 when a player named Leon Lett had a goal line fumble that cost the Cowboys the game. Leon would go on to say it was the worst day of his life. We hosted Thanksgiving at our house that day and had family come from 20 miles away braving the ice and snow to be together.

There were a couple of times that Pattye and I spent Thanksgiving working at the Dallas Cowboy stadium in one of the food vending booths. She sang with a world famous group of ladies, The Rich-Tones, and each year we would raise money as a non-profit manning the booth during the annual Cowboys Thanksgiving Day game. Later we would join the rest of her group of volunteers for turkey at one of their homes.

We have eaten at 5 star restaurants on Thanksgiving. We have had everything catered by the local grocery. We have traveled to our kids homes and they have traveled to ours. Each year has been different in its own way. Some years have been more quiet than others and sometimes the day seemed like non-stop kids running through the house.

It's a special time and I hold all of the memories close to my heart.

I hope all of you enjoy the day as well.

Gosh, I'm getting hungry already.

The Art of Shopping.....yet another dwindling institution

As we progress further and further into the abstract world of technology, we often lose touch with traditional and ancestral practices. Routines that once separated us from the uncivilized hunters and gatherers of the world are slowly being eroded from our memory banks.

The one thing that made us conqueror of all in the free world, second only to having an opposable thumb, was not only the ability to shop, but the knowledge of knowing how to shop.

For those that can remember back that far, the shopping experience was a long anticipated adventure. Young girls and occasionally little Skeeter boys would dream of the upcoming trip as they looked through their closets for their best slacks or dresses, their crisp shirts or blouses and their shiniest of shoes, often black patent leather for the girls and sometimes the boys would sport a bow tie.

The mothers would often dress their young daughter with the same ensemble that the mother was wearing or sometimes if there were sisters, they would both wear the matching attire. From hat, sometimes with a veil, to scarf, to purse and to the obligatory white gloves they set the pace for a fun and exciting day.

And then they would head out to shop.

Keep in mind, shopping wasn't necessarily buying. Shopping was browsing. Shopping was trying on items and looking into the mirrors that gave almost a full circle of presentation from all sides. The moms would smile, the little girls would beam but by then, the little Skeeter boys were becoming bored and they would make faces in the mirrors and try and see how far they could see around their backs.

As the day wore on, the mothers would offer tips to her young charges on the importance of different fabrics such as the softness of cashmere or the fragrance of leather. Sometimes the little Skeeter boys were left momentarily as the mothers and their older daughter would venture into the dressing room taking along more intimate clothing. The little boys or little girls left behind would often receive a soft command from within saying, "Skeeter or Mary or Alice or whomever, "Go get the saleslady".

The experienced well-dressed, salesperson, expert would enter the dressing room and after a few hmmms and ummms would leave and come back and then saunter forth with more intimate items. Finally all would exit with smiles on everyone's faces except for the young teen whose face showed only crimson cheeks and a half-smile.

My first exposure into understanding that shopping was an adventure, an event, rather than just a trip to accumulate goods was later in life when I took on an extra job selling ladies shoes at Marshall Fields, a world-wide store, known for the latest in women's fashions. Simply stated, I sold ladies shoes. Trouble was, I later found out, woman tried on shoes, lots of them, different styles, different designs, sometimes even different sizes. But that's what they were there for...they were shopping, but not buying. It was truly an Art how they took something as simple as leather, thread and glue and turned it into a show. The young children would eagerly await their turn to try on their first heels as the little Skeeter boy played with the metal device that measured feet as he imitated the salesperson as he straddled the little footstool.

So much of what we learn isn't always from books or lectures, it's from watching someone we trust and try to emulate them. But now, mothers teaching the youngsters this mysterious and time honored tradition of shopping is now in jeopardy. Technology has now taken over.

One can sit in their easy chair as they browse their phone, or tablet or laptop and simply say, "Siri, I need a pair of black leather pumps, with 3 inch heels, a beaded black clutch, a blue scarf and I need it by Tuesday. Also, I have coupons." Even the weekly shopping trip to Walmart is now being replaced with a simple APP that allows you to place your entire shopping list in someone else's hands, the Personal Shopper, to have your items ready for pick-up without ever leaving your car...or simply having Uber deliver the groceries.

How will the children learn to pick the ripest melon, the ripest or not-ripest avocado? Even grocery shopping is becoming a lost Art. I know, I know many of the younger moms and dads are saying GREAT!. My only concern is how will the next generation learn to pick up that tomato and simply by smelling and sniffing, they know they have exactly want they wanted.

Is it truly an Art, this in-store shopping phenomon? Is it soon to be a lost Art?. Sadly, I think so. The malls keep closing their stores, the Saks, the Maceys, the Neiman's all are closing up shop and turning to technology to sell their wares. The days of Mother and daughters wearing their white gloves  and carrying their purse for a day of fun and learning are now over.

The children will learn their own way, and, well...that's okay...even for me. I am sad though that the touch of cashmere and that fragrance of leather may never be experienced  the way we first learned while walking through the stores.

The young girls will grow up and be great shoppers on their own and in their own way. And, the little Skeeter boys, they'll  be fine too. Heck, they never really shopped anyway.....they just learned from their dad's to just go in and buy, the heck with that shopping stuff.