Sunday, November 22, 2015

Thanksgiving in the 1970s

                 My sister, Angie Gates Bradley, and I were blessed as children to celebrate many holidays with both sides of our family. My maternal grandparents lived with us. My father's parents lived west of our farm just a few miles.
                 We enjoyed Thanksgiving and Christmas lunches usually with my paternal grandparents who lived only a few miles from our farm home. Their tiny house bulged with my extended Gates family members. Before my family arrived for lunch, the hunters in the Gates family had already been out for many hours. Often cousins matched up against each other for a fun game of football or outdoor activity to work off all the turkey, dressing, and outrageously high-caloric desserts. Professional football games blared from Grandma’s small television with over a half-dozen pairs of eyes trained on the tiny screen. The family storytelling appealed to me most. After several hours of mesmerized listening to stories I’d heard many times, sprinkled with frequent chuckles, my family said our good-byes and traveled east a few miles to Aunt Daisy’s home.
Daisy Rainey Rice with Wanda Rice Nix, her
oldest granddaughter.
Great-aunt Daisy Rainey Rice was the oldest sister of my grandma. We enjoyed the evening meal at Aunt Daisy’s home with my maternal grandparents.Since my mother was an only child, her parents celebrated the entire day with Aunt Daisy’s family. 
Many of Aunt Daisy’s children, her grandchildren, and great-grandchildren were there. The farmhouse shook with the spirited conversation and cheerful laughter.
Bernadean Gates, Ruby Martin Rice, Vickie Rice
Cabell, and Dean Rice Littlestar
Aunt Daisy’s son, Elmer Rice, and my grandfather, Calvin, instigated a lively discussion of politics whether it was an election year or not. As one can imagine, the two of them agreed on most issues.
Wanda Rice Nix, Calvin Callcayah Smith, my maternal grandfather, Virgil Rice,
the youngest son of Daisy Rainey Rice, and Edmund Gates, Jr., my father.
Recently, a relative reminded me that she received a warning that my grandma, Gladys, was coming. Grandma engaged a person in a religious discussion; actually, she required an accounting of how the person’s relationship with Jesus was. As a result, relatives sometimes “dodged” her. Only later after having entered into a vibrant relationship with the Lord, the same relatives were some of Grandma’s biggest fans.
Maxine Hines Rice, Gladys Rainey Smith, my 
maternal grandma, and Helen Foust Rice.
I never recall sitting at a proper table at either of these family celebrations. I dined at the kids’ table for many years. As I aged, I ended up sitting occasionally at a TV tray. Neither home had Thanksgiving-themed stoneware or china, sterling silver serving trays, or beautifully cut crystal glassware. I never remember coordinated cloth tablecloths and napkins.  The aroma ambiance of these older farmhouses derived not from the latest potpourri or candles, but mouth-watering baking scents wafting through the rooms of both homes. 
Hazel Rice Goad Guthrie, Yvonne Goad Kelly, and
Robert "Bob" Rice.
The Thanksgiving celebrations centered on intangibles such as collective thankfulness for a strong family held together by an unbreakable bond forged by common ancestry and resilient love. They knew a family could never allow the peripheral – food, tableware, activities, or even conversation topics– to interfere with the solid relationships unique only to that particular family.  
Tom Cabell recalled meeting "Grandma Rice."
Her granddaughter, Vickie, introduced them and
Daisy asked Tom if he worked. He responded,
"Yes, I do." She then asked, "Do you farm?" to
which he answered, "No." Her reply was, "You
don't work." It takes a tough skin to get into
some families!
God has richly blessed the Gates, Rainey, and Rice families. May we make deliberate choices to interact daily with love for our families on earth and so mirror the love in the family of God.  The Apostle Peter instructed in I Peter 4:8 from The Message:
  Most of all, love each other as if your life depended on it. Love makes up for practically anything.

1 comment :

  1. My mother would have loved this story. She was a Rainey and so loved to recall her family and childhood. Thank you, Bernadean, for your stories. Life really is all about family - our spiritual family and our earthly family.

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