It seemed, back in the day, any holiday, be it a Jewish celebration or an American traditional event, it was our house hosting friends and family, and my mother was the official cook and baker. It also seemed, back in the day, no one wanted to argue, because dinner at Rena’s house, was one wonderful, delicious way to celebrate.
We would add the two wooden extensions to our dining room table, extending that seating area, to accommodate, 14 people, squishing the small tushies between the relatives with not-so-small tushies. The nice dining room chairs with the softer cushions were for grandma’s older aunts and uncles, and if anyone was pregnant at the time. My little sister and I had to go to our scary part of the basement, next to the old coal shoot, and collect the stack of folding chairs, which always seemed full of spider webs, and spiders. It was usually freezing outside, but we had to take those folding chairs outside and wipe them off. The neighbors supplied the two folding metal tables and random extra chairs. No complaining however because the feast that early evening was going to be a reward worth touching spiders and spider webs.
At the height, when most of my family had been living in Pittsburgh, in the 1950s, for Thanksgiving, would somehow squeeze into our tiny row house, at least 28 people. I had no idea of the concept of a nuclear family way back then, but damn, as I recall and remember, how wonderful indeed it was to have everyone together gathered for Thanksgiving dinner. I never knew the names of the perfumes the women wore, but I do remember thinking that my grandmother smelled like roses, my aunts smelled like lavender, and my mother seemed to have the aroma of lilacs around her. We knew who had just arrived at our house because back then their perfumes arrived before they did. Most of the men were surrounded by Old Spice, and back in the day, they used an awful lot of that. But then, of course, once we started with homemade chicken soup and onto the choices of turkey or brisket, nothing but the intoxicating aromas of food lingered. Often times we had 7 different Jell-O-molds in various shapes and colors, and of course cakes, cookies, pies, and ice cream. The meal would end with a combination of Peach Schnapps and something my family called Romanian Coffee, dark, and with the pungent aroma of coffee beans.
I miss then. I am happy with now. But the older I get, the more I remember, once upon a time. I am grateful for who I have become, and the life I have lived…but since this IS Thanksgiving, I want to thank all of the family and friends, from a life so long ago for helping me make it to today!
