For kids, Thanksgiving is the kick off to a season of magic and wonder.
I suppose that I grew up at just the right time, as we had the modern conveniences but technology had not yet consumed society. Thanksgiving was one of the three times a year that the entire extended family got together and enjoyed each other’s company.
My cousins from Atlanta and Macon and I loved getting together for Thanksgiving because, unlike Easter, we didn’t have to wear our Sunday church clothes and could roam the forests near Grandpa’s house with wild abandon.
Inside, Grandma’s kitchen was a hive of activity as the adult folks cooked. Grandpa was in charge of the turkey, which meant he basically sat in his huge arm chair and got up from time to time to walk over and nod his head at the oven.
The kids were strictly forbidden from the kitchen, but we didn’t care, we were too busy climbing trees and hunting for snakes to play with.
“If it rattles let it run, if it doesn’t then pick it up and have some fun,” my cousin Jeff, who was a couple of months older than me, used to say. That was probably not the best logic when dealing with wildlife, but hey, we were kids doing what kids do.
The aromas emanating from the kitchen would eventually draw us into the den where the kids’ table would be set up.
Grandma Hudson had a special cornbread recipe that featured an extremely finely ground meal. I don’t think you can buy that type of corn meal anymore except maybe at an obscure retail shop located in the mountains. It was more like corn powder instead of meal.
While Grandma called her concoction “cornbread,” it was more like the “hoe-cakes” that were popular in the Colonial era. She would pan fry it in her iron skillet.
In the mid-1970s, microwave ovens were not widespread, so everything had to be timed down to the minute and, boy, what spread ended up lining the counters of Grandma’s kitchen!
Turkey, ham and venison were served with homemade dressing, sweet potato casserole, green beans, congealed salad, broccoli with cranberries, and snap peas from Grandpa’s garden. Aunt Diane and Aunt Kip always brought their homemade pecan and pumpkin pies.
While we kids sat at the kids’ table in the other room, we could hear the adults talking, and the sound coming from that table was nothing but laughter as my dad and my uncle Van reminisced over stories from their youth.
My father and Van didn’t argue over politics or religion but over whose hot rod had the most power when they were growing up as teenagers or which band was better, the Beach Boys or the Beatles. I think Daddy’s Barracuda always won out, and I know he would be proud to have knowledge that his favorite band had a final hit song in 2023.
After the huge feast, Uncle Van and dad would gather all of us kids, and they would read aloud “Twas the Night Before Christmas,” to our delight. Afterwards, the adults would watch the parades on television while we kids would sit around the kitchen table with the Sears Catalog and dream about the gifts we wanted from Santa.
As the years progressed, graduating from the kids table to the adult table was almost a rite of passage. The promotion to the big table did come with the responsibilities of helping cook by preparing the snap peas and helping mix the filling for the devilled eggs.
As my cousins, siblings and I grew up and went off on our own, the big family gatherings stopped for a short time. My parents took the opportunity to travel to the mountains during Thanksgiving, but once my siblings and I had our own children, the old traditions returned.
My brother is an avid hunter, so we always had fresh venison on hand and Christopher brought back the reading of “Twas the Night Before Christmas,” to our new little generation of kids.
It was wonderful to see my daughter’s eyes light up as Chris recited the poem, and it gave me fond memories of my own childhood.
Now that my daughter is in college and doing her own thing, my wife Jeannie and I are doing what my parents did and using the Thanksgiving holiday as a time to do a little traveling; however, even without the giant feast, the meaning of holiday is not lost on me.
Thanksgiving is a big part of the cycle of life as we all can pause for just a moment to be thankful for the people around us we love and we look to the future of sharing more fun times with them.
I look forward to the coming years when my sibling’s children and my own progeny provide us with the next generation of Hudsons and Uchitels, and I know we will bring back the big family tradition once again. We will dust off the cover of “Twas the Night Before Christmas,” and read it to a whole new set of giggling imps.
The next time though, it will be Christopher and I who are the old men sitting in the armchairs reminiscing about our past adventures while getting up from time to time to check the turkey.
Happy Thanksgiving y’all!!
Scott Hudson is the Senior Investigative Reporter and Editorial Page Editor for The Augusta Press. Reach him at scott@theaugustapress.com
