The Absent Uncle: A Thanksgiving memory

It is one of my favorite times of the year – Thanksgiving week! I love the traditions, the weather (most years), the feelings I get from people (at least most of them), and most of all, the memories of Thanksgivings past. 

I realize that true meaning of Thanksgiving is to give thanks for your life, your health, and really for all things given to you in the year past. For me though, it is something more. It is a memory day – of where you were, what you experienced, and the wonder of it all to give thanks for. 

Over the years, Thanksgiving has been spent in so many different ways. Certainly, sharing with family and loved ones the traditional turkey, dressing, green bean supreme, pumpkin pie days topped off with football games and wonderful conversations. I have had those days in my home, the home of others, and on board a ship in the Gulf of Tonkin. 

They have been celebrated in groups of five or 10, 10 or 20, or with 5,000-plus shipmates. I’ve been alone, with new friends that welcomed me to join them, with families of friends that shared the day and their traditions with me in times that I really needed to feel included. And of course, with my own family – whether it be my house or mom and dad’s, a sibling’s, grandma’s, or a special aunt or uncle. All of those days were special, memorable, and certainly days to be thankful for; and I am. 

But my most special memory is my earliest memory of all time. Thanksgiving Day, 1956. I was 5. 

It is my earliest clear memory of my life.   

I was in a jacket and cap; a bit of a brisk Minnesota November day. The family dinner had been served and over. I was sitting on the big rock in between two boxelder trees that was on the right side of the farm driveway. Wish I had a picture of that spot to share with you, but I just can’t find one. I clearly remember saying to myself. “It is Thanksgiving Day 1956 – don’t ever forget this day”.  

I haven’t. To have a happy and blessed Thanksgiving!