Memories of Thanksgiving

People sometimes comment about that number, since it is somewhat unusual these days. However, to me, it is no big deal. My mother has twenty-two grandchildren, and I am one of thirty-two. I am accustomed to large extended families.

My grandparents had ten children who lived to adulthood. By the time I was old enough to have any memory of family events, the big gathering of the clan each year was at Thanksgiving. My grandparents’ house was not nearly big enough to accommodate such a crowd, especially since fall weather often did not allow the group to move outside. So, each of the local households would rotate in hosting the event.

I do not recollect that the entire clan was able to attend at any of the gatherings, but a few times a big majority were there, and it made for a large crowd. I am part of the Baby Boomer generation, and the Green family did our part to swell the population in those days.

Dinner was pot-luck, of course, and since my parents’ generation were children of the Great Depression, the cooking generally was outstanding. We ate and ate until we could eat no more.

In the afternoon, if the gathering was in a place that lent itself to it, some of us would take a hike into the woods. Others would sit around and visit, and digest the dinner. If the weather was nice, any number of outdoor games might break out. Because of the poverty of the family during the Depression years, our parents had forgotten more games that cost nothing to play than the rest of us ever learned.

For several years, there was a generational grudge match basketball game. The men of my father’s generation would play the boys of mine, and it was no holds barred. My father and his twin brother had started on the 1941-42 Magazine basketball team, so they at least knew their way around the court.

The real competitor for the older generation, however, was my Uncle Dale Newsom, who had married my father’s next-older sister. He was not an athlete by any stretch of the imagination; he probably had a vertical leap of about two inches. However, he was intensely competitive. He staked out a square right under the basket which immediately became a War Zone, and any young sprouts entered it at their own risk. Veterans of World War II were not intimidated by a little contact in sporting events.

My grandparents both died in 1975. The family tried to continue the annual gathering for a few years, but it finally fizzled out as attention shifted to the component families within the clan. While it was in its heyday, however, the annual Green Thanksgiving gathering was a memorable event.