Happy Thanksgiving, Mom
The dishes are done. Happy Thanksgiving!! We Lenexa Nicks's (that is, wife Marci) hosted yet another family Thanksgiving dinner. We embraced hosting the family feast decades ago when we realized that Marci was the only one who could get everything to the table at the same time................warm. Of course other family members, at about the same time, realized that Thanksgiving ain't over til the dishes are done (preferably at someone else's house).
We enjoyed the traditional Thanksgiving dinner, notwithstanding my friend Brandon's observation that the first Thanksgiving fare consisted of fish and vegetables. (Please do not clutter my agreed upon celebration myth of Turkey and Dressing with facts.) I made our dressing on Tuesday evening. Stuffing gets 'stuffed' in the bird. Dressing is arranged around the Turkey, thus 'dressing' it up. For years I have mixed, blended and made dressing with my mother, at her home in Shawnee. I was not able to make it with her this year. She is in physical rehab for a broken shoulder. (Cracked the old wishbone eh, mom?) My brother, Danny, came over to my house to see how the dressing is made and with what ingredients. He seems to be a sage-hawk. Mom, on the other hand, always cautioned about using too much sage.
Mom's fall interrupted our pre-Thanksgiving routine of dressing making. I understand that routine, according to the Topeka Menningers, equates with love. I believe it. There was a lot of routine in Shawnee in the 50s & 60s. My childhood , overseen by mom, was definitely routine: same two adults at the breakfast table every morning, same 10 of us around the supper table each evening (TV off), same boundaries for bike-riding, same seasonal sports, same trees for climbing, same hill for sledding, same walking path to school, to pool, to store, and to grandparents, same bed time, same tomato farm summer job, same dishes to dry, same grass to mow, same homework to be done, same field/park across the street with the same buddies, same parish carnivals, same Sunday Mass, same muggy summer days and nights, and when troubled the same comforting words; "Say 3 Hail Mary's, it'll be ok" (did she collaborate with Sir Paul on 'Let It Be'?).
Thank you mom. Thank you for the routine. The world should be so lucky as to be surrounded with such routine. We'll make dressing together again next year. And don't worry, I didn't tell brother Danny all of our dressing secrets. I failed to tell him about the nutmeg. May God continue to routinely bless you.
We enjoyed the traditional Thanksgiving dinner, notwithstanding my friend Brandon's observation that the first Thanksgiving fare consisted of fish and vegetables. (Please do not clutter my agreed upon celebration myth of Turkey and Dressing with facts.) I made our dressing on Tuesday evening. Stuffing gets 'stuffed' in the bird. Dressing is arranged around the Turkey, thus 'dressing' it up. For years I have mixed, blended and made dressing with my mother, at her home in Shawnee. I was not able to make it with her this year. She is in physical rehab for a broken shoulder. (Cracked the old wishbone eh, mom?) My brother, Danny, came over to my house to see how the dressing is made and with what ingredients. He seems to be a sage-hawk. Mom, on the other hand, always cautioned about using too much sage.
Mom's fall interrupted our pre-Thanksgiving routine of dressing making. I understand that routine, according to the Topeka Menningers, equates with love. I believe it. There was a lot of routine in Shawnee in the 50s & 60s. My childhood , overseen by mom, was definitely routine: same two adults at the breakfast table every morning, same 10 of us around the supper table each evening (TV off), same boundaries for bike-riding, same seasonal sports, same trees for climbing, same hill for sledding, same walking path to school, to pool, to store, and to grandparents, same bed time, same tomato farm summer job, same dishes to dry, same grass to mow, same homework to be done, same field/park across the street with the same buddies, same parish carnivals, same Sunday Mass, same muggy summer days and nights, and when troubled the same comforting words; "Say 3 Hail Mary's, it'll be ok" (did she collaborate with Sir Paul on 'Let It Be'?).
Thank you mom. Thank you for the routine. The world should be so lucky as to be surrounded with such routine. We'll make dressing together again next year. And don't worry, I didn't tell brother Danny all of our dressing secrets. I failed to tell him about the nutmeg. May God continue to routinely bless you.
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