Thanksgiving

In simpler times, 1948 to be exact, Thanksgiving had a very loud message. In Cape Breton the coal miners were on strike, my oldest sister was in teachers college, and come Sunday you had to take stock to see what you should be thankful for. As usual our family hustled around trying find clothes, shoes and anything else needed for the special church service. This was a hectic time in our house with 10 people getting ready.

Mom made her usual inspection of we young ones and a second look at our shoes and so on. Gifts for the poor were to be taken and dropped in the large boxes at the entrance to the church.We never thought that we were included when poor was discussed. We always had food and mom made our clothes and knitted our socks and mittens. This particular morning I was wearing a white shirt which Mom made from a hand me down, and it had stitching around the collar in brown thread. I loved that shirt and always felt good when I wore it.

We walked up the lane with the normal bantering among the girls and boys. I splashed my sister by accident but received a good word from Mom to behave. I never understand that expression because to my memory I always behaved, sometimes badly - but sometimes good. We arrived at church and waved to our friends and took our two rows of pews at the right front of our church.

The service was great with special music and old Rev. O'Brien clearing his throat and praying for the poor, the sick and everyone who had a problem began what was to be a special service. The strike was discussed and the message I got was help our neighbour who is in need. We left the church and wanted to run home to our big dinner.

Mom and Dad prepared the meal. Our own chickens, turnip and potatoes from the garden and fresh picked cranberries from - where else - Cranberry Bog, Dad's birthplace. Gravy was Mom's specialty and her pumpkin pie, apple pie and bread pudding was a hit. We missed our sister that Sunday and talked about her and the problems with the strike and how it effected our life in Sydney Mines.

On our last day of school before Thanksgiving the Red Cross gave all the students a special treat. Every morning we were given a half pint of milk and a jam sandwich. That Friday we received chocolate milk, jam and peanut butter sandwich and a small tub of ice cream. We were thrilled and thankful.

Those memories are still strong in my mind and when we celebrate our family special today I harken back to the simpler times when we appreciated very little, very much. Today we will enjoy our family and eat good food, prepared in a special way and feel joyful for what we have received. Our family always takes time to speak of the past and remember others are not as fortunate as we, and to think of our family who are missing from our table.