Brown Paper Packages... (Part 4)

 PART FOUR:

Traditions

Over the years, our Family traditions for Thanksgiving continued to grow.  Eventually the stuffed Cornucopia wore out and was replaced by a smaller wicker one with real fruit and veggies, but Mom kept collecting turkey decorations.  The “strings” on the brown paper packages got pretty elaborate when we realized that ribbons are technically “strings” and there are vast options for beautiful ribbons and bows.   One year, when my sister was 13, she came into the living room where we had all gathered bright and early to open our presents, wearing her pajamas, and a stocking cap.  She handed stocking caps out to everyone to put on, and announced that our “new tradition” would be to wear stocking caps on Thanksgiving morning while we opened presents…  We did it that year, but thank heavens that “tradition” didn’t stick.  I hate stocking caps.

One tradition that developed, is one that I really like.  I imagine it came about when Mom and Dad were short on money one year, because a new tradition of giving gifts made by hand was suggested.  We all set about making gifts for one another by hand, and that became part of our tradition.  I remember one of my favorite gifts were the stuffed Football pillows that Mom made out of brown corduroy for all three boys.  They were the best Pillow fighting pillows ever invented!  We got into lots of trouble with those!  From then on, our gifts were either something we had made for someone by hand, or something that could be used to make something by hand, for example, some paints, and a canvas, or a journal to write a story in, or a sewing machine, or tools.  I try to keep those rules in my Thanksgiving gifts.  I love the connection to creativity and developing personal talents.  Giving gifts always inspires me to create something.  Come to think of it…  I’m doing that now.

And we always invited family and friends to join us for Thanksgiving dinner.  It was a feast meant to be shared.  When we lived in Okinawa, there were a lot of young military men and women, far away from their families.  My mother and father didn’t want anyone to be alone on Thanksgiving. We opened our home and shared our feast with those young service men and women, and some of our Japanese Friends, and in my memory, somehow we managed to fit 50 people in our living room and everyone got “stuffed.”  We Played games and told stories, and sang old 50’s rock and roll songs.  No one in our home ever felt lonely or “left out.”