I have many nostalgic Thanksgiving memories. When I was a child, I always watched the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade on TV. Daddy would go out and mow over all the leaves in our yard and then come back in and fall asleep in his chair. Mother stayed busy in the kitchen cooking our Thanksgiving dinner . . . which was always eaten in the middle of the day.

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Be present in all things and thankful for all.

— Maya Angelou (1928-2014) American poet, memoirist, and civil rights activist

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The Thanksgiving meal was (and still is) chicken and dumplings, dressing, and pecan pie. This tradition was passed down to us from her mother . . . my grandmother, “Mama Coker.”

The thin, flat dumplings are flavored by chicken meat which has a lot of skin with fat (which mother said gave the dumplings their flavor). The dressing is made from cornbread cooked the night before, biscuits from breakfast, and, of course, lots of sage. The pecan pie was the traditional recipe on the back of the Karo bottle.

The last year my mother was alive, she was not able to cook that day. She had been diagnosed with cancer the previous August and I did not know this would be her last Thanksgiving. I normally do not cook, but that day we had to have our traditional dinner so I set about the best I could trying to make the meal. Mother sat in “her chair” about ten feet away giving me instructions. I had watched her make this meal for years, so I knew what it looked like to make the dough and roll it out very thin and cut it into strips using a dull kitchen knife.

First of all, when I opened the flour container, there were bugs all in it. (She had not been able to cook for awhile but I had not realized this until now.) So off I went to the grocery store and bought new flour. 

I managed to make the dumplings and dressing. I have not done it since. My mother died the following March and after she died my husband took up the mantle of preparing the meal for my family. Most years since my mother’s death, my immediate family has gathered at our house to enjoy the traditional meal. 

I probably never thought about being thankful or grateful when I was growing up. I thought adulthood was a long way away. In one sense childhood is a long time, but we reach the apex and downward years way before we are ready for them.

These past two Thanksgivings, with the Pandemic, I have chosen to be thankful for what I do have. — Music. Life. Creativity. — All the simple things. 

There used to be an older African-American gentleman where I work who took care of the parking lot. One morning I saw him coming back from getting breakfast. I waved and said, “Good morning, Mr. Willie! How are you?” His reply, “I am great. The good Lord let me wake up this morning.” What a wonderful statement of gratitude. That may seem simple, but these last two years have shown me the preciousness of being alive . . . and, to not take life for granted.

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Give thanks not just on Thanksgiving Day, but every day of your life.
Appreciate and never take for granted all that you have.

— Catherine Pulsifer, author and motivational writer