No matter what you’ve read, no matter what you think you remember, Thanksgiving is often not a nice holiday. At least it wasn’t when I was growing up. Now wait, I’m not a malcontent and I have evidence to offer. Some of us have memories of the Thanksgiving holidays after World War I, when we celebrated the fact that we could all be together and there was plenty to eat.
Preparations started way back in the spring with the chicken enemas. Now, if you’ve never participated in this pre-Thanksgiving ritual, you may be puzzled But back in those days the chickens were given this homely treatment and it was my job to hold the poor chick upside down while one of my parents dropped oil upon its nether parts. If that doesn’t take the shine off the day, I don’t know what will. In case you think I’m making this up, I did find a note in the Scientific World Journal that details the method of giving enemas to chickens. When I was a little girl, that was one family activity I would have gone a long way to skip. The Scientific World Journal says that is rarely necessary. Now they tell me!
Many of us share memories of the Thanksgiving holidays after World War I – when we celebrated the fact that we could all be together. There was plenty to eat .And the lights came on again all over the world.
Growing up in Montana, right where Libby Dam resort is now, the holiday was pretty simple. No Gobblers
We ate in a building abandoned by the J. Neil Lumber Company. It served as a community center, saloon on Saturday Night, church on Sunday and I roller skated there the rest of the week.
In 1941, A large part of the population of our little town of Warland, moved to Spokane. We were settled in our landlady’s upstairs a apartment by the start of WWII and on December 7, we heard the news boys carry the story of the start of WWI And everything got more complicated, including Thanksgiving.
Across the country, wartime Thanksgivings took on a different feel, snatching moments with loved ones wherever you could. My uncles were in the Navy and toward the end of the war brought my grandmother a monkey named Suzie who changed the atmosphere of Thanksgiving a lot for us. Suzie bit people as often as possible.
Once the war was over and sugar rationing ended, our joy swelled into the huge Thanksgiving celebrations that were so much part of those years.
Now the Thanksgiving Feast meant the biggest turkey gobbler we could find, remembering that turkeys in the fifties were half the size they are now. Of course many families were still cooking in a wood stove . The Business Insider says that today’s turkeys are twice the size of those in the 50’s turned Many people believe today’s turkeys lack the flavor of those early ones .And the Jello mold. There was always a Jello mold.
Thanksgiving dinner dress code was pretty rigorous. Daddy wore his green sports coat and Mother wore her best dress, heels and makeup. Thanksgiving required our very best. The table was set television perfect and there was always an extra chair, which my mother said was in case the baby Jesus should stop by. but it was a sweet tradition which meant there would always be room for one more and often the chair was filled by a neighboring teen ager who wanted to fit in one more dinner.
Happy Thanksgiving!