Article published November 22, 2009
It's family that makes Thanksgiving a special day
Just suppose Aunt Edna or Grandma Smith, or whoever's turn it is to have Thanksgiving dinner, announces there will be no turkey, squash, sweet potatoes, or even pumpkin pie this year. Instead, the host has decided to ignore the traditional menu and serve meat loaf or cabbage rolls and just skip dessert because everyone says they are dieting anyway.
How disappointed would you be? Would you still show up for dinner or stay home?
The answer to those questions came from a group of people who no doubt will have turkey and the trimmings, but it's family that guarantees Nov. 26 will be a special day. It's the children and grandchildren around the table that put the thankful in Thanksgiving.
The conversation was at the Barn Restaurant in Delta that was opened many years ago to accommodate farmers who attended the livestock auction next door.
Judy Peabody, who first worked at the Barn in 1977 and is now owner, will be open Thanksgiving morning for breakfast. "My customers expect it. They come here to get the news," she said. Turkey sausage, Judy?
The Barn is one of those small-town places where people gather as much to talk as they do to eat. Many of the world's problems, to say nothing of those in Washington, are solved by regulars who claim space at the community table that seats 24 people comfortably. When their conversation gets interesting other customers seated in the booths feel free to join in.It's a morning ritual at the splashy green oilcloth-covered tables where the friendly seniors say hello to a stranger without reservation and Margaret Shipman, who is affectionately called ornery by the cooks, makes the rounds greeting friends with a firm pat on the back before settling down for breakfast.
That's why I felt comfortable throwing out a question to the group that they took like bait to a walleye.
The question was "What does Thanksgiving mean to you other than a turkey dinner?"
"As long as I've got family, I don't care even if we have bologna sandwiches," Carole Mason said. She and her husband, Bill, have been married 52 years and are regular morning customers at the Barn. Carol Mead remembered two disappointing Thanksgivings when the family tried to break tradition. Once they had lasagna and another time they went out to dinner. "We were still with family, but there was no leftover turkey. It's best to be home."
Kris Cole, who was manning the grill and flipping mounds of fresh home fries to a rich brown crispness, along with other breakfast fare, had an expression of relief when she was asked the question. Sure, she puts family first in importance for the holiday, but this year it's her mother's turn to cook. Next year it will be her sister-in-law's responsibility. "And then me again," she said with a sigh.
Thanksgivings past are remembered as the feast day approaches. For Ed Cline favorite memories are not around the table, but in the fields hunting with relatives.
"It seems like it was always snowing and blowing on Thanksgiving," Mr. Cline said. "We went hunting early in the morning for pheasants and rabbits. Then they were cooked. By dinner time we were sleepy."
Jim Williams, a Barn customer who stops at the counter for a hearty breakfast on his way to contracting jobs, labels Thanksgiving as a day of rest and too much food. "I just show up at my brother's house. We eat and go into a food coma and then I crash on the couch."
A couple of days later while hanging out with the guys at Greeting's garage in Hudson while my car was being checked, Mike Bacon of Morenci shared a turkey story and added one about geese. Tony was a bronze female bird that was a 4-H project for his children. "We never ate or sold the projects," he said. Tony tangled with a raccoon and was severely injured. Mr. Bacon fed Tony with an eyedropper for a month in the basement and even sat up nights with him, he said. After his recovery, Tony's favorite activity was riding in Mr. Bacon's truck.
Samson and Delilah, a pair of 9-year-old geese, are Mr. Bacon's current feathered friends. They peck on the door every morning at 6 o'clock for breakfast. Mr. Bacon says he has bought corn, wheat, and oats for the geese, but they only want bread cubes.
"I was raised on a farm and we ate what we raised," Mr. Bacon said. But, not to worry, Samson and Delilah are as safe as was Tony.
As for the car inspection, sure enough it needs brake linings. The week before it was a new battery and tires. The trip to the dentist was for a cleaning, but wouldn't you know, they found a cavity? More money and more time.
Nevertheless, I am determined to spend Thanksgiving in Aiken, S.C., at the Green Boundary Club with former Toledoans Gene Roach and Richard Enk who are always good for a story or two.
Mary Alice Powell is a retired Blade food editor.
Contact her at: mpowell@theblade.com.
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