By Neal Wooten
Thanksgiving is a great holiday. It always falls on Thursday, creating a four-day weekend. It comes with the same family gathering and the same amount of food, if not more, than Christmas, but without having to do any shopping. Plus, our radios are not bombarded for a month with Thanksgiving music. And, of course, there’s only one good Thanksgiving movie — Planes, Trains, and Automobiles — so we’re not brain-dead from watching 24 hours of A Christmas Story.
Lots of cool stuff happens during this time of year. When I was a kid, I remember seeing a sign that read, “Turkey and ham shoot.” I’m sure they still have those. But way back then, I remember thinking, “Okay, I can see the challenge of shooting a turkey because they can run and even fly a short distance, but where’s the sport in shooting a ham?” Yes, I really thought that.
My family, like most mountain families, cooked enough food to feed a small town, and everyone in the family came. You’d have to get there quick to get one of the six dozen deviled eggs because they went fast. Mom’s yeast rolls didn’t last long either, nor did the ham and slaw, for that matter. We’d feast on leftover turkey for weeks. And someone would eventually throw away the cranberry sauce.
Different family members brought their signature dishes. My oldest sister, Julene, made dressing to die for, and her giblet gravy was divine. My second sister, Neenah, brought her German potato salad. My youngest sister, Denise, was the one told to bring sodas. I think all families have the “bring soda” member who never excelled in the culinary arts. And we would have more desserts than you could shake a vial of insulin at.
I was in college the first time I had Thanksgiving at a friend’s house. A girl at Auburn invited me to come to her family’s home. Boy, was I in for a shock. They served spaghetti. Before we ate, her mom said, “Neal, would you like to tell us something you’re thankful for?” I looked at the plate of spaghetti and a side salad and said, “I’m thankful I grew up on Sand Mountain.” Okay, I didn’t really, but I thought it.
That’s a custom to go around the table and say what we’re thankful for. And while we usually name big things, in this country, we truly have a billion tiny things to be thankful for, things we take for granted every single day. Here are two of mine. I’m thankful for local newspapers that have given me an outlet for 17 years to share my thoughts and for all of you who read them.
