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Canadian Thanksgiving: Part Two

© Mary M. Alward

Last week, I explained when Canadians celebrate Thanksgiving, and a bit about what Thanksgiving was like for me when I was a child. This week, the story continues. If you haven't read part one, there is a link at the bottom of this article.

Next, pickled beets, mustard beans, onions, and dill and sweet pickles, would be spooned from the jars and placed in cut glass dishes. By this time the fragrance of roast turkey filled the room, making me long for dinner to be ready. Thanksgiving dinner was usually around 2pm. At noon, everyone would start to arrive. All of the women would pitch in to assure dinner was on time. I would take the younger children into the yard to keep them "from underfoot."

While the women were preparing the meal, the men sat on benches or in the old, oak rockers on the verandah, spinning tales or talking about the year's harvest. I loved to listen to the yarns spun on that porch. Tales of the big fish that "got away," hunting stories or some comical anecdote about a neighbor or friend. There was no farm work done on Thanksgiving, except the milking and feeding of the livestock, and the tales told were always lighthearted. Grandma didn't allow "idle gossip."

Every so often, I would sneak up to the wooden screen door and peek into the kitchen to see how dinner was coming along. Finally, I would see Grandma taking the turkey out of the oven. It was always golden brown with juices flowing. She would remove the stuffing while the other women "took up" the rest of the meal. Then she would call Grandpa to do "the honors," which meant carving Old Tom.

When the table groaned underneath its burden of food, Grandma would take her Iris Depression glasses out of the sideboard and pour warm apple cider into each one. When she was through, Grandpa said the Blessing. Every head was bowed, not a sound in the room. When he was finished, everyone said, "Amen." He then passed the big plate of turkey and the room filled with chatter and laughter.

Late that night, our family would make our way back across the field. Once at home, we got ready for bed and said our prayers. With full hearts and tummies, we were soon fast asleep. This year, as I sit at Mom's table, the same traditions will be kept, except for Old Tom, who will be bought from the grocery store. As we eat our meal, we will reminisce of other Thanksgivings and give thanks for children, grandchildren, love of family, the blessing of the crops and the great country in which we live. We will also give thanks for good health, happiness, the food before us and the ability to all be together once more.