Thanksgivings Past

In my earliest memories of Thanksgiving, I'm always dressed up like a pilgrim girl and taken over the river and through the wood to grandma's house. I also remember being bemused by cranberry sauce, the what, how and why. Out of this distant past grew my love of dark meat (so tasty!) and turkey sandwiches for days after on my mother's parker house rolls.

In my teenage years we celebrated Thanksgiving with our friends who own an Hawaiian restaurant. They always cooked fantastic meals supplemented with dishes from their Filipino, Mexican, and Polynesian friends. Our family (and sometimes the missionaries, but that's another story) were usually the only haoles. My mother fretted over what she could add to such an exotic meal, but everyone always loved her parker house rolls.

In college I would go to my aunt's in Logan. Some years we would eat with other relatives, but one year it was just me and two of my aunts who don't get along. Hilarity ensued. That was also the year we made ten pounds of mashed potatoes and had nine pies. Just to check your math, that came out to 3.33 pounds of potatoes per person and 3 pies each. Each year I tried to make my mother's parker house rolls, and while I improved, they were never the same.

When my sister came to college, my parents decided they would come up for Thanksgiving. The surprised us the first year by driving their brand-new cherry red jeep. The next year they flew in and my car overheated on the way to the airport. We got to spend the night in Bountiful and even though we were at his mercy, the mechanic was very quick and helpful and we were on our way again by noon the next day. Fortunately there was still time for my mom to make her rolls.

One year my cousin Stacey and family came and I was introduced to her cornbread stuffing (affectionately called cannonballs by her father) and cheesy spaghetti squash, both of which have changed my perspective on Thanksgiving. Mrs. Olsen came that year with mincemeat pie with a lard crust (delicious!) and I helped my mom make pumpkin pie and her rolls.

Two years ago I received my endowments the day after Thanksgiving. People suggested that I fast for the day before I go, but I gave up on the idea once the house was filled with the odor of sausage stuffing and yeast dough.

Last year we had Thanksgiving in Berlin. I brought canned pumpkin with me so that we could be sure to have pumpkin pie. No one else in our group did so I decided not to share my pie (what good is a piece of pie that is 1/30th of the pie?). But we did have the unique experience of carrying a cooked turkey on a bus. We were grateful that year that there were no dogs. But the rolls were a disappointment. The girls in charge of them brought frozen ones to bake in the stake center's oven. This might sound ok, until you remember that you can't go far in Germany without running into a bakery full of the most delicious pastries and breads. How could frozen rolls compete? And at three euro cent each at the bakery, I doubt they got a better deal on the frozen ones.

This year I'm home for Thanksgiving, the first time in nine years. The weather is gorgeous so we're eating outside. I have niece and nephews whom I can dress up as pilgrims and my mother is making her parker house rolls - which as you have no doubt noticed, is the true meaning of Thanksgiving to me.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!