Onions, Celery, and China

THANKSGIVING 1982

The first Thanksgiving Day smell I remember is celery and onions. When PinF would wake up as a child in Drexel Hill it would inevitably be to the peculiar odor of onions and celery being sauted in butter in preperation for the stuffing. To this day nothing else evokes memories of past holidays like this odor wafting through the house, as if the concoction is is signaling your brain that it's Thanksgiving. So it was as I stood over the stove this morning stirring the translucent vegetables as my mind wandered through Thanksgivings past.

Sophias' tucked away in her bed comfortable in the knowledge that as soon as the parade begins I'll be waking her so she can enjoy the many floats, celebrities, marching bands, and pomp as it marches, dances, and floats its way through Manhattan.

So much has changed. So much. This time last year I awoke to yet another Doctor as I stood in my kitchen doing exactly the same things. He sought my authorization for what would become an increasingly steady list of procedures. I can remember trying to steel myself as he so matter-of-factly discussed what he intended to do and telling myself that I was doing the right thing, and to be strong. I wonder too, where we all would be a year from now. Well we're here, my father isn't. Life is so much about what has been as much as is about what will be.

To think that 44 years ago today myself and my parents were all linked and together in Delaware County Memorial Hospital as I made my debut into the world almost seems surreal. So again as I prepare to carry on and create the memories for my daughter that my parent's created for me as I ponder my blessings and experiences that have me made the man, and father I am today here in Florida.

We're all woven into each other for better or worse. We all leave indelible smudges and scatches on each other. I was reminded of this as I began my routine this morning and I began to assemble the different china pieces I would need for the meal and noticed a chip here or there. I have beautiful china given to me by my mother who herself was a recipient of the same from her mother, my grandmother. The link is static. It runs from my maternal grandmother to her daughter- my mother, and then straight to me. Touching this china today evoked thoughts of the many McCormicks and friends who've laughed, cried, argued, and enjoyed meals and company via the meals they've served, myself included as a child long, long, ago. It's like living history. I never break them out now except for Thanksgiving. Still their poignancy and history is rich and powerful.

As I picked and chose my pieces Sophia appeared behind me, wiping the sleep from her eyes she said "wow, papi where'd we get these?"....she was thinking we had new tea party china. So it was that I explained that this china is probably 70 or more years old, and that it was her great-grandmother's. "Wow" she said, as she grasped the history and beauty of the pieces. I told her that one day when she is grown and has her own home that she too would have the china. And in this small way her family's Irish side slowly and poignantly is conveyed through tangible and historic means.

Sophie's calling me every other moment now, telling me this person is appearing or this float is coming.....funny how Thanksgiving is as much a repeat of past years as it a continual absorption of family values, histories, and traditions. There isn't the madness of four siblings that I enjoyed as a child, yet there is peace and complacency that I didn't have as a child. So as much I wish Sophia had siblings and maybe more family to share with on this day, I'm also cognizant of the quality of time we have in this format. I remind myself too that Sophia's memories of her days as we live them are based soley on what "she " knows, and not my memories. Result being that she loves her solitude, routines, and traditions that we've come to create and enjoy, not to mention being #1.

PinF's blessings are many, and as I renew another year of my journey I always get a chance to look at the bigger picture by virtue of the holiday I was born on. I miss my dad and remember sitting on his shoulders trying to see the parade on Broad Street. I'm thankful for my mother too, as this day forever connects us; being born on Thanksgiving as I was. I gotta run now, as Sophia has called my no less than 6 times asking me when we're going to watch the parade together. The onions and celery have filled the air, the china has graced the tabled. Memories, past and present are rich and palpable as they are constantly being made as well as pondered.

Life is good, I am truly thankful all that I have. Nothing is dearer or more appreciated than that of having that cute eight year-old beseeching me to join her for the parade, little does she know she's starring in her memories of tomorrow.

Happy Thankgiving from Florida.