Once Upon a Time, Long, Long Ago...

When I was a very small child, before my great-grandmother got 'the breast cancer', the family had Thanksgiving at her house.

She and my great-grandfather lived pretty much like they had always lived - except they had electric lights in each room.

Memories are vague, because I was so young, but this is what I do remember:

We ate later because the men were killing a hog. By Thanksgiving, it was always cold enough to do this.

The dining room had lots of  natural light, and the double french doors were always open to allow the heat from the wood heater that sat in the middle of the living room floor, to heat this room too.

The table was long and full of my mother's aunts and uncles and their children.

I was the only great-grandchild, the Princess.

My seat was an old, green high chair, whose tray had been removed so it could be scooted right up to the table.

There was about a million vegetables that had been canned or stored in the cellar for a bountiful meal.

We had baked hens instead of turkey.

All of it was cooked on a giant wood cook stove, with lard, real butter (that she churned herself), cream from the cow, and eggs from their chickens.

Mama Hill, my great-grandmother, always made me pop taties. They were called this because she sliced potatoes very thin and fried them until they were so crisp they popped when you chewed them.

And she made them just for me, the Princess.

After dinner, Papa Hill would get out his fiddle and stand in front of the stove in the front room. I would sit in the floor, looking straight up at his pale blue eyes and snow white hair. His overalls were pressed, as was the white shirt he wore underneath them.

He always had a little stick or a pipe protruding from his mouth.

All the adults sat around in whatever they had drug into the room, and enjoyed the music.

I was carried to the car for the long ride home back to town, sleepy, then asleep.

Happy Thanksgiving to each of  you, and here's hoping you have a precious memory to see you through when holidays may not be so great.

If you don't, you are welcome to mine.

Because they couldn't be any better than these.