Perhaps The World Ends Here
The world begins at a kitchen table. No matter what, we must eat to live.
The gifts of earth are brought and prepared, set on the table. So it has been since creation, and it will go on.
We chase chickens or dogs away from it. Babies teethe at the corners. They scrape their knees under it.
It is here that children are given instructions on what it means to be human. We make men at it, we make women.
At this table we gossip, recall enemies and the ghosts of lovers.
Our dreams drink coffee with us as they put their arms around our children. They laugh with us at our poor falling down-selves and as we put ourselves back together once again at the table.
This table has been a house in the rain, an umbrella in the sun.
Wars have begun and ended at this table. It is a place to hide in the shadow of terror. A place to celebrate the terrible victory.
We have given birth on this table, and have prepared our parents for burial here.
At this table we sing with joy, with sorrow. We pray of suffering and remorse. We give thanks.
Perhaps the world will end at the kitchen table, while we are laughing and crying, eating of the last sweet bite.
This poem by Joy Harjo seemed appropriate somehow for this Thanksgiving.
Our sons at the Thanksgiving table in our house in Kykotsmovi Arizona
Making cookies with my cousin at the kitchen table in my grandparents’ farm house
My father in-law serving up gravy for perogies while holding our son at the kitchen table in their home.
My son and his cousins puzzling at their grandparents’ kitchen table
My husband and son playing chess at our kitchen table in Hong Kong
Coloring Easter eggs around the kitchen table with my mom
Celebrating my birthday at the kitchen table with my sister and brother
My husband and our niece at the Thanksgiving table at my brother and sister-in laws’
Filed under Family, Holidays
Friday night we went to a party in memory of a man who was a golfing buddy of my husband Dave. Jim passed away only a few months after being diagnosed with cancer. We ate some great food, drank some wine and friends shared memories that made it clear they were THANKFUL to have known Jim.
Saturday we went for a long bike ride. I was THANKFUL for the beauty of the fall season. We stopped to vote in the advance poll for the October 19th election. I am THANKFUL I live in a country where I can voice my political opinions by voting. Then we biked over to Grant Park to see a movie. We ended our evening at a Vietnamese restaurant for a bowl of hot soup thick with crispy vegetables, chicken and noodles. I’m THANKFUL I live in a multi-cultural city where food from every country of the world is available.
Sunday morning we went to church. Our pastor talked about how research shows that THANKFUL people are healithier physically, mentally, spiritually and emotionally. In the evening I went to the wedding of a good friend’s daughter. I am THANKFUL for opportunities to celebrate and for the gift of friends.
Monday morning I went to the gym to do my work out. I am THANKFUL for a healthy body that makes exercise possible. Then I entertained fifteen people from my family for a turkey dinner and a celebration of my father’s 87th birthday. I am THANKFUL for my family.
I am THANKFUL for a great Thanksgiving weekend.
My father carves the turkey
Thanks Mom and Dad
Filed under Family, Holidays
My grandmother almost always wore an apron. She put it on in the morning and kept it on throughout the day. Grandma worked very hard in her house, garden and kitchen. She cooked, canned, cleaned, did laundry, collected eggs, separated milk, sewed and tended to the needs of her six children and her husband. Her apron was a uniform of sorts for her job as a homemaker. When my father and his five sisters were cleaning out my grandparents’ home, my aunts donned a selection of Grandma’s aprons and posed in them.
On Thanksgiving weekend we celebrated my Dad’s birthday here at our home. I asked Dad to carve the turkey, and like his mother and sisters he too put on an apron to tackle the turkey. He kept his apron on to listen to us sing Happy Birthday, blow out his candles, oversee the family conversation
and visit with his grandchildren.
Like his mother whose apron was really a sign of her care and devotion to her family, on Thanksgiving Dad’s apron signalled much the same thing to all of us.
My Dad and his sisters dressed up in their parents’ clothes visit Grandma in the nursing home. This family knows how to have fun.
Other posts about my Dad and his mother…….
My Grandmother was a Guitarist
He Hasn’t Lost His Green Thumb
Grandma and Embroidery Hoops
Filed under Food, Holidays