Becky Peterson Menk, Tribe of Maurice
Becky Peterson Menk, Tribe of Maurice, Memories, from 2000
Summer visits at Annie and Fred’s—riding on the hayracks, playing in the oat bin and pigpen. Naming all the kittens “floral” names, playing “life” on the dining room floor. Making homemade ice cream. Vacation Bible School at Wood River with Shirley Olson. Gathering eggs at Auntie Irene’s—fresh spritz cookies and riced potatoes. The colored aluminum tumblers at Auntie Parn’s and the little plastic people who “walked” down a slanted board. Leaning to water ski at Uncle Don’s cabin. Playing in the gym and preschool rooms at Elim Baptist. Nancy making Barbie doll clothes for the littler cousins. And playing hospital in her old student nurse uniforms in the porch of the farm. Pit (Trade 2!), Rook, and always singing.
“With Thanksgiving” by Becky Peterson Menk, 2015
It is quiet in the house right now, early morning, Thanksgiving day. As I drink my coffee I savor the peace, knowing before long the silence will be broken by the voices of family and friends arriving to celebrate.
This is a benchmark holiday, laden with traditions and memories, most established around the table at Auntie Irene’s farmhouse. Many memories of laughter, Games of Rook and Pit, and of course Riced Potatoes and much love.
This year is the first year without any of Hulda and Otto’s children in attendance. And yet as I look at my table and menu, I realize the many tangible and intangible ways the are still with us.
The table itself is the one at which Hulda fed her family. Dad started to refinish it many years ago. When they downsized, he passed it along to Dave who finished the project.
We will be eating our meal off of Annie’s Fiestaware china with her silver plate. Many of you will remember the brightly colored china from gatherings at the Nelson Farm.
No doubt, the meal will begin with a rendition of the Doxology in four part harmony. This year we will be reminded of the voices which no longer joining in the song, at least here on earth.
The Turkey and Dressing are the same recipe as were served each year at Sandbergs. The sage dressing undefiled by such things as celery, nuts and other additives. Mom adhered to the Cedric Adams Recipe from the StarTribune as if it were the eleventh commandment.
Also on the table, dinner rolls from Hulda’s recipe box, and Mom’s Swedish Rye bread. Someday I’ll be brave enough to attempt LaVone’s Butterhorns.
We’ll finish up with pumpkin chiffon, chocolate chiffon, and pecan pies, credit to LaVone, Irene and Betty Crocker. We also have Irene’s ribbon-style Spritz cookies. We would have had her Meringue cookies also, but we neglected Beverly Sandberg’s excellent advice about the note on the oven door, and burned them to a crisp baking the bread the next morning. But that is no problem, because….
We are blessed, we have been blessed for many years with family love, shared experiences and a living faith. This is the basis of our Thanksgiving.
The snow has begun to fall may you all travel safely.