The holidays have arrived again, packed with all the emotional baggage they carry for us. I was surprised a few years ago when I read the headline "The Typical American Lives Only 18 Miles from Mom," in The New York Times. Despite news reports of Americans crowding into airports to travel home for the holiday, it turns out that the opening line of the song, "Over the River and Through the Woods, to Grandmother's house we go" still might accurately describe the geography of U.S. families.
It's not necessarily true for ours. This year, we'll celebrate two Thanksgivings one week apart with our two children and their spouses. It will be a different experience, but at least we're sharing a meal with them--unlike during the two years when Covid-19 was at its peak.
One interesting finding of The NY Times study was that Americans with less education or lower incomes live closer to their hometowns. Although we know we did the right thing, many of us Iowa farm and rural parents who sent our kids to college sometimes feel we laid the groundwork for them to move away from here.
In fact, we know rural and small-town Iowa parents who have relocated to urban areas to be closer to their grown children, and grandchildren. It's another body blow to rural Iowa. A 2019 survey by Meyers Research found that 25% of Baby Boomers are doing this. It's called "baby chasing," but it can backfire when the young adults relocate for their jobs.
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For many of us, though, the only way we can return home for the holidays is through memories. As the years go by, it becomes harder for me to accept the norm of only two generations gathered around the Thanksgiving table. Where are the grandparents--those living archives of family and community life? Our children lost their last surviving grandparent in 2019, only a few days before Thanksgiving. She was 93, and we were lucky to have her for so long.
I grew up next door to my maternal grandparents, on the same farm. In the week leading up to Thanksgiving, my three siblings and I would slip into Grandma's unheated, enclosed porch to preview the delicious make-ahead dishes that began to appear on her round oak table. We kids would help her get out the leaves to expand the dining room table, and unpack the good silverware from the large buffet, and her best dishes from the china cabinet. In addition to immediate family members, Grandma often invited extended family who would have spent the holiday alone. There often were 12 to 15 people. Grandma eventually outlasted many of them, living to age 98.
We kids would have to eat in the kitchen. We didn't care--the food was just as delicious! After the meal, the women would clean up and wash dishes, all the while sharing news of babies, marriages, illnesses, and neighbors. The men relaxed in the parlor, talking farming, markets, and politics. I loved to eavesdrop on the men although I was supposed to be in the kitchen. I didn't dare venture an opinion.
Unlike today, watching football on TV wasn't a Thanksgiving tradition. Nor was planning for the Friday kick-off to Christmas shopping.
Sharing Our Stories
I still often bring out Grandma's dishes and silver at the holidays, although I suspect that the younger generation doesn't share the same reverence for these heirlooms.
Passed down by loving hands and hearts, the stained and tattered pages of family recipe books remind us that food can do more than sustain us. It can bring us together to celebrate and remember loved ones. I have recipes from Mom and Grandma, but I missed the chance to hone my skills while they were alive. (I'll probably never make Grandma's mincemeat pie!)
A few years ago, I visited a relative who had moved from western Iowa to Ames in her later years. She and her mom sometimes had joined us at Grandma's holiday table. "Your grandma made the best riced potatoes!" she told me. I never knew Grandma's technique--my mom was a master potato masher. But I went directly to Cooks' Emporium in Ames, and bought a ricer. Now I use it at the holidays--- and share this story with our daughters.
My husband's mother, who lived nearby, taught our girls how to make her recipes for egg noodles, apple bread, cherry jam, and other homespun foods for the 4-H county fair
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Celebrating What We Have
Today we commonly say we're giving thanks for a bountiful harvest. But making abundance the measuring stick of Thanksgiving blessings overlooks the reality that many Thanksgivings throughout history weren't celebrations of abundance.
In the spring of 1856, my great-great grandfather, Elijah Adams, brought his family and a caravan of 23 others by covered wagon to Woodbury County, Iowa. By November, he and his family had:
· 100 acres of sold broken to the plow
· 30 tons of their first cutting of prairie hay salvaged from a prairie fire
· Plentiful wild game and fish
· Supplies procured from Kanesville (Council Bluffs) 90 miles away
· Nuts gathered in the woods
· Wild plums and berries preserved by the women and girls
· A 16 x 32-foot house with a chimney of mud and sticks
Did they enjoy an abundance? Hardly. But it was enough to survive the severe winter of 1856-7.
The promises of opportunity and mobility were powerful incentives motivating your ancestors--and mine-- to cross the prairie or the ocean, leaving family and home behind. Many of these pioneers worked together to build the first roads, bridges, schoolhouses, and churches. They often endured great hardships. But they knew that staying connected with one another was the key to future success and even more opportunities.
It wasn't until October, 1863, that President Lincoln signed the first national proclamation declaring the last Thursday in November a national holiday. During those years, the United States was torn asunder by the Civil War. His proclamation was an attempt to remind the citizens of a deeply divided nation of their common heritage.
Surely the years of Thanksgivings during World War 1 and World War 2 weren't bountiful---with rations of sugar, cheese, butter and margarine, and canned fruit, and shortages of turkey.
Times may change, and traditions may shift. Relatively few Americans lack enough to eat on Thanksgiving--despite the kerfuffle regarding turkey prices this year. Today it's more about celebrating the intangibles of our lives, including our common connections and history as Americans.
Elevating the Common Good
Our country has endured so much in the past two years: the staggering loss of lives from Covid-19, the protests and civil unrest following the murder of George Floyd, and the January 6 assault on our democracy. The results of the recent mid-term elections have provided a ray of hope that the peaceful and legitimate transition of power--the core of our democracy-- is alive and well. But we can't take this for granted.
This Thanksgiving let's pause and give thanks for our pioneer ancestors who carved a trail for us. Let's show gratitude for their struggles to create a new world of freedom and justice. And let's pledge to do our part to uplift that ideal. Let's celebrate this Thanksgiving as a time to overcome our country's political divisions and pull together to preserve opportunities for all our children through access to education and a foothold on the rungs of the US. economic ladder. And let's stay connected, working together for the common good, and sharing what we have with others.
May the family and friends gathered around your Thanksgiving table be blessed with good health and a hearty helping of gratitude.
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What are you doing this Friday, the day after Thanksgiving? The members of the Iowa Writers’ Collaborative will hold their second Office Lounge chat. It is available to our paid subscribers. Meet the following folks:
Thank you for the lovely commentary anf reflections.
Thank you for the lovely reflection about your family’s celebration of Thanksgiving.
Happy Thanksgiving!