My mother, who was always right, said, “Holidays just aren’t holidays without all the relatives – whether you like them or not.”  I thought it was ridiculous to have to spend a holiday with people one did not like. Mama, on the other hand, believed relatives should be assured of a warm welcome no matter what.

Since we had about 25 cousins, holiday festivities were a major logistic achievement.  All holidays were directed by Mama and produced by Ninny, who ruled the kitchen, all of us and the house in general.

The planning phase for holiday feasts was my favorite time.  Everyone was in a high state of anxiety, exhaustion and excitement.  The house was gripped in a fever of activity.  The elaborate preparations were as complex and labor intensive as a Cecil M. DeMille theatrical production.  

Act I: Who Will Be Asked?
Lists were made, names crossed out and added until finally the whole thing was scrapped and Mama decided who was in and who was out.  All relatives were in but some friends were out.  The Master List was redone for another day or so until it was narrowed down to the nearest and dearest 25 friends and relatives.  Mama would wring her hands and ask God why she had to make the hard decisions.  There were the inevitable heated discussions over the Master List.  Ninny would let everyone stew for a few days and then in a casual she would say, “Oh, y’all havin’ the Blanks again?”  A slight shrug of her shoulders conveyed her disapproval.  “Far be it from me to say anythin’, but I do recall y’all said y’all couldn’t stand him talking so much and y’all would all faint if she giggled one more time.” The Blanks were quickly removed from the list.

“Huh, these people with the bad children didn’t add much to the event, either. I thought I’d never hear the end of y’all carryin’ on about the bowl that bad boy broke.  But if you want them, it’s fine with me.” Names were dropped from the list in record time.  She won her case with masterful acts of diplomacy worthy of Henry Kissinger.   She began with a coup de theatre (brilliant suggestions to accomplish a marvelous turn of events), then if that was not effective, she followed with a coup de main (sudden attack on the plans to expose all its weaknesses).  If all else failed then the coup d’etat (overthrow of power by taking things into her own hands), and finished with a coup de gras (making final decision and putting everyone out of their misery).

Act Two: What Will We Serve? 
Several days before Thanksgiving the Great Aunts would give Mama a list of “new ideas” for the feast.  But the final menu was decided when Ninny took one look at it and gave all the reason why most of the new ideas were bad ideas and clearly not feasible.  Days of agonizing over the menu ended up with the same menu we always had and loved.

Act Three: Everybody Stay Out Of My Kitchen. 
A gigantic turkey and ham and several of Ninny’s vegetable masterpieces were done to perfection.  But her forte was desserts and she cleared the kitchen on puff pastry day.  Those delights included cream puffs, éclairs and napoleons. I haven’t had a napoleon since she died in 1948. Mama engaged kitchen assistants for Ninny who began the culinary marathon that lasted two days before and lasted until 12 noon on Thanksgiving Day.

Act Four:  Thanksgiving Day. 
Promptly after breakfast tables were set with crisp white tablecloths and napkins.  China, glassware and silverware carefully placed and place cards arranged. The Great Aunts picked flowers and created beautiful centerpieces that included chrysanthemums, late roses, pryacantha and nandina branches from the front and back yards.

When everyone arrived the old photo albums were brought out and there were tears as they saw the faces of those no longer with us, and laughter as they recognized people and events from days long ago.  I can still hear the high, fluted voices of the Great Aunts and their friends and the deep, baritone voices of Grandpa and his friends.  The pungent, wonderful aromas that wafted from the kitchen remain forever fresh in my memory.  The tables still shine with silver and china.  The sugared fruits in crystal dishes Ninny made with an egg white and sugar glaze are still sparkling in the fall sunlight.  Silver dishes on the sideboard are laden with divinity, fudge, pralines from a recipe that was over 100 years old and hand dipped chocolates that took all afternoon to make.

 I have only to close my eyes and I am 10 years old again sitting in the kitchen with Ninny as she finished her candy making and baking.  There were so many chiffon pies, four-layer cakes and pans of candy the kitchen looked like a French confectionary.

My daughters and I still make pralines from the same 100-year-old family recipe, we bake turkeys and make sugared fruit and set the table with the same tablecloths, china and silver. We have everything the same as always, except for the relatives.  Sadly, they are all gone.  That why I, at last, understand what Mama meant.  Holidays are just not Holidays without all the relatives – whether you like them or not.

In honor of all the wonderful Thanksgiving Days - here is a parody of Thanks for The Memory. 

 

Thanksgiving memories
Guests dressed in style
On every face a smile
No one late
Dinner great
A treat for every child.
How wonderful it was!

I’m thankful for the memories
Dessert plates piled high
With layer cake and pie
Lingering at the table
To tell fact and fable
Stories of days gone by

The Day had minor problems
Some cousins fun at the start
Others could be aggravating
Everyone was glad to see them depart

I miss the simple pleasures
Of a gentle time and place
Ladies sweet in lace
Cholesterol was unknown
So was the rat race
How wonderful it was!