Thanksgiving 2003

Today is Thanksgiving, and however the holiday tradition originated (pilgrims and harvest) it has come to mean food and family, usually in that order. In my order however, it was always the other way around. Perhaps it is simply because I do not live near my family that I long for them especially at this time of year.

One year my brother drove his Yugo eight hours in the freezing cold to make it for dinner. Hoping (knowing) that the gas tank would be refilled with a furtive gift from Dad�s wallet before attempting the return trip. It was so cold and clear that morning. I kept stealing glances out of the slightly fogged kitchen window out into the sparkling snow, waiting for him to arrive. The dog knew first and we ran at our separate paces, to the door. Arriving in order from youngest to oldest, my little sister first and my father last. Even at his age he could have beat my sister in a race, but he always had a rambling sense of time, what�s the hurry? He�s coming to us. I was always shy around my brother. He was eight years older then I was and very tall and handsome. I had always envied those pond blue eyes, though I later realized I had similar eyes, but on him, they were dramatic against his darkly freckled face and deep chestnut hair. He always smelled as I thought all men his age must, of Brutt and cigarettes, of slightly musty clothes and car exhaust. No matter what his situation at the time, he would always bring gifts for his little sisters.

My sister and I would giggle (or was it fight) through the rest of the dinner preparation stuffing celery with cream cheese and stealing jewel black olives. I wonder at how much we fought at that age. What was it exactly? It�s hard to remember now when I talk to her about daily life. Now we are only three years and 2000 miles apart, but are not separated now as we were then by rivalry and jealously. A sister is a wonderful thing, but perhaps only after you are both 21. Today I think of my family, knowing that my sister, due to graduate schoolwork load, is spending one of her first Thanksgivings free from family obligations, to work on an important final exam. I know she will still eat Turkey, but I can�t help but feel for her and what she will miss.

Thanksgiving has evolved in my family. My mother always used to make the feast and before I was in college, the whole family would gather at our everyday dinner table laid with our everyday plates (spruced up by the antique serving pieces laden with holiday food) and give thanks for the past year. What I miss most now at my thanksgivings away from the family is the moment at the table where we�ve all just sat down and we turn expectantly to my mother who seemed surprised every year that we want her to say Grace. It is not a normal practice for us to say Grace before an everyday meal, but this is Thanksgiving. We hold hands around the table and bend our heads. I know I should close my eyes, but instead (as I always have) I gaze out of the corner of my left eye at my mother who is radiant in the marbled sunlight streaming in from the foggy kitchen window. We are all at our normal places around the oval table (now with leaves added to maintain the weight of the feast). My mother is at the head and to her right is my sister. I sit next to my sister with my father at the other head; my brother is across from my sister and me. I catch him gazing at my mother as well. Mom seems to pause and remember before thanking God for the basics of food, family and those who are not with us, Amen. Her words sustain us like the food we are about to partake and we lift our heads and blink her dreamy voice away as provisions are already being passed. I wonder now if she will pray for me today half way across the country and for my sister under her mound of terms and facts and figures. A place in my heart tells me she will.

Thanksgivings are no longer primarily around the old family table. In fact the old family table and even the old family house are not a real part of the family anymore. We�ve moved on to other houses and other tables. Thanksgivings (like other holidays) are now rotated among the extended family of new wives and boyfriends and their parents. The old family�s Thanksgivings are replaced with the new families� Thanksgivings with the children in an out as our schedules allow. It has been long since I�ve been able to attend a Thanksgiving at home. Mostly I make a semblance here for my husband and I to eat alone. It�s not as forlorn as it sounds. We much enjoy each other�s company and talk and laugh enough to fill the house. Now it is he and I who stuff celery and steal olives, no longer worrying about my mother�s wrath at the half empty olive bowl. For the first time since we�ve been married we will go to his mother�s this year, where she will cook a feast. I am nervous, as it is her first Thanksgiving in a long time and my first ever where I haven�t really been a part of making the meal. But still I have gathered things to bring pies, olives and deviled eggs, flowers for her and wine for me. I know when we sit down to our plates at her table I will be thinking of my family and what they are doing and missing their laughter and their Grace.

Perhaps my finest memory of the holiday involved my father�s tradition. My father was an old farmer to the core. No matter the worldly traveling he did as a youth, when he returned home to the farm to raise his family like he raised his crops, the land and he reconnected and were symbiont. If my father was awake he was outside doing this or that. He rose at dawn to work in the fields or help a neighbor or build a house or cabinets. There was always something to clean or fix or haul. Though when he sat in his chair (and it was his alone) he became like the land in winter, dormant and snoring awaiting the first warming rays of spring. His holiday meal tradition did not vary from his everyday meal tradition. He would eat like he had two hollow legs and push his extended belly away from the table. He would slowly (hoping we would not to notice?) make his way to his chair perhaps thinking he would watch some TV before going out to the shop to repair that hinge he had meant to fix. In minutes his snores would resonate throughout the house. My sister and I would always roll our eyes at the same time we smiled. I always thought his earsplitting snoring was his body�s way of making itself heard for my father was a very quiet man when he was awake. No matter how deafeningly we were cleaning the kitchen or banging the dishes or how loudly our 1970s dishwasher would churn, he would sleep on.

Since my father has passed away there won�t be a new memory of that tradition in the context of the current way my family spends their Thanksgivings. But like the pilgrims and the harvest and food and family, some traditions live on even when new traditions have over taken. I might not live near my family now, or take part in their Thanksgiving, but my memories sustain me as my mother�s Grace once did.

More vacation blogs to come (someday when work isn't crazy)

But for now, view and enjoy the brilliance of this actual presentation!

http://www.librarian.net/nhla/

Make sure you look REALLY close at the pictures; they illustrate the point quite well.

VACATION BLOG Tuesday night and all of Wednesday

Since we were going East to Spain we decided to work a full day and leave that night from work for the over night flight.

Got to the airport no problem (thanks to the new and handy off ramp) and parked in the long-term lot, this isn�t too terribly expensive. Bus to the terminal and a HORRIBLE self check in. I have to say. Using NW I am usually able to check in online but since this was a KLM flight, even though I had an electronic ticket I was forced to check in at the airport. They required all sorts of crazy screens and no one was there to help and it was loud and hot... needless to say I got frustrated.... But got through it and got to our gate (though security which didn't take too long) and got settled to wait....

And wait...

And wait....

The plane ride was pretty uneventful, the food wasn't terrible and there was a movie (the title of which escapes me). I actually did sleep a bit and our seats were good since it was jus the two of us in the row.

Got to Amsterdam Wednesday morning and was as VERY impressed with the airport. So clean and nice! And very nicely set up. Went through emigration and waited at our terminal for the flight to Barcelona

Landing in Barcelona 2 hours later... Our bag came off the plane almost first so we went to find customs and ended up outside... Um, no customs... OK what ever...

Standing there I was trying to find my little notebook with the phrases for asking a taxi to take us to a hotel when an older man asked us in broken English if we needed a taxi. Hell yeah we need one, so he ushered us across the street while looking at the address for our hotel. He seemed a bit distressed at the address but we got in and were off. He spoke no English but I think he was explaining to us something about how our hotel might be hard to get to but (and he made hand gestures for this) we could walk a short way to it from where he would drop us off.

It was a pretty wild ride. Red lights and pedestrians mean nothing and neither does a traffic lane... And when we got close he suddenly veered off of the main road after a garbage truck, which had a police office opening a gate to an alley for it. It was quite clear that this little alley was off limits for car and the police office wagged his finger at us, but the cabbie just laughed and I laughed and he said something to the effect of, the police wouldn�t stop us cabs... Or something... So we darted quickly down this alley and then ended up in a pedestrian street (read no cars, but LOTS of people) and suddenly we were in front of our hotel... Which I have to tell you is not on a street but is in between two strictly pedestrian squares... But hey that didn't stop our taxi driver... He wished us a good stay and thanked us for our tip and I wished him Bueno Suerte cause had no idea how he would get out of the pedestrian area...

At the hotel they gave us some lovely champagne and we went up to our room quickly so as to take showers and change. We decided a proper Spanish lunch was in order (at 2:30pm that is exactly lunch time). So we walked down the narrow and windy Del Pi to a lovely square with a bit cathedral in it (which we would visit later). We found a place called La Buena Estrella (the lucky star). S had lovely Paella and I ordered from the menu of the day. I had NO IDEA what I was ordering and there was a bit of confusion when I actually did get something (as we didn�t know if it was mine or S�s) But when it all did come it was really good.

We then tried the farmacia to get shaving stuff and to try for bubble bath, but I got too shy to ask� though S did get a razor and foamy cream.

We walked around a bit to get oriented and took some pictures of some amazing graffiti. Then it was back to the hotel for a nap until 8pm where we then got up to go to dinner (8pm is still early for dinner in Spain but what the heck�)

We found a place called Irati in our guidebook, which ended up being very close to our hotel. I wanted to try tapas very badly. We had a nervous start, but after a quick check of the phrase book we were back in, ordering, and doing OK. Tapas are a wonderful invention!!! We also tried gelato later, but I was full so only had a few licks. We walked around a bunch more getting more oriented and avoiding tourists, motorbikes and beggars. The buildings are ALL so amazing it is hard not to walk around looking up with your mouth gaping open� We stopped for espresso at a chain called Cappuccino. I even had one and it was GOOD! We went back to the hotel late to look up thnigs to do the next day and to make a quick call to the family.