Thanksgiving and Memory Time (A short story)

 Location: Heart of Haynesville RV Park; Mansfield, Louisiana

I know I was suppose to post a follow-up with pictures of the "wows" on the last trip but I'm still sorting through the many hundreds of pictures. So instead, I figured I was post this short story that popped in my head yesterday while I was waiting on my laundry to finish. 

One of the main reasons I started this blog over 10 years ago was to leave a record to my kids and grandkids of what the old man was doing during these times of my life. I guess, I've accidentally started writing down short stories as they pop in my head. Oh well, I hope it won't be a regular thing but the good news is it forces the memory demons to go sit in a corner while I type one up.

Thanksgiving and Memory Time

It had been almost a year since Dad passed away and joined Mom in heaven. Thanksgiving was coming up quickly. It was always the one holiday of the year where Mom and Dad encouraged, almost requiring, that all family members must gather together as one. For the last forty years, Thanksgiving had always been about cooking old family recipes, making new memories and remembering old ones. Since Mom and Dad were no longer with us, a couple of the kids had been dropping hints that they wouldn’t be attending this year. There was talk about being too busy with other things and the drive being too far. It looked as though the Thanksgiving tradition would soon end and be forgotten.

Dad had been in the Alzheimer’s wing of the local hospital ever since Mom passed away. It was as if his memories meant something different to him after she passed. Their shared memories had become his Silent Echoes as he became lost inside of himself. Dad always knew the day was coming when he would lose his memories because he went through it with his father.  Mom and Dad talked about that painful time with us kids as we were growing up. I guess that was one of the reasons for the “Memory Time” at Thanksgiving. None of us knew when it started. It was just something we always did on Thanksgiving. After eating the holiday food and everything had been cleaned up, Dad would always declare with a loud voice, “It’s Memory Time”. Sometimes we would groan and complain but always complied and gathered around the table. Of course, Dad would start by recalling a favorite memory and usually telling a story that we all had heard numerous times before. But sometimes, it was a new memory and we all sat in quiet fascination. After he finished his memory, he would say, “Next up is my sweet wife”. Mom would tell her memory and it would go on and on like that as all the kids, in order of their ages, would each tell their memory.

A few of us thought it was fortunate that Alzheimer’s took over Dad between the time of Mom’s passing and Thanksgiving so he never had to do Memory Time without her next to him. We never thought of it as a tradition, I guess because of our young ages, but now, looking back it had became a treasured family tradition. If the gathering of the family for Thanksgiving was going to end, so would Memory Time. We all knew this Thanksgiving was going to be different and sad.

It was agreed amongst all of the kids that everyone would attend Thanksgiving this year but made no promises about future ones. The girls did the cooking like they had since Mom passed and as usual, the dinner was great. I’m sure everyone was wondering about Memory Time and looked to me to begin it since I was the oldest. I thought to myself, “maybe this is the first year with it”. Before anyone could say anything, there was a loud knock at the door. Everyone looked puzzled as to who it could be since everyone was already here. I volunteered to go to the door and see who was interrupting our holiday time. As I opened the door, I saw Mr. Jenkins. He had been Mom and Dad’s lawyer for years and years. We all knew there was something between Dad, Mom and him but never knew exactly what it was. I know the three of them had gone to school together because that was one of Dad’s favorite memories he always told. It was about how Mr. Jenkins had a crush on Mom in high school but that Dad won her over. Dad told that story with pride and it always caused Mom to blush as she thought about two men trying to outdo each other for her attention. Although we pressed each of them with questions, neither would give any specific details about exactly what happened. Dad would always end the story the same way and since all of us kids had heard it so many times, we knew the ending well. We knew what he was going to say and would say it with him. “The best man won”.

Now Mr. Jenkins was here, but why? With a sad face and teary eyes, he held out an envelope to me. He said, “Your Dad wanted me to give this to your family on Thanksgiving. I guess the best man really did win after all”. After saying thanks to Mr. Jenkins he left and I returned to the family with the envelope. With all eyes on me, I slowly opened it. I recognized the handwriting immediately; it was not only Dad’s but also Moms’. How could this be? Everyone was clamoring for me to read the letter out loud, so I started reading.

 

Dearest Family,

If everything worked out right, ole Jenkins should have just delivered this letter. Many years ago, your mother and I knew there would come a day when we wouldn’t be here with ya’ll, so we made a plan. We got with Jenkins and asked him to deliver this letter after we passed on. We just couldn’t let Thanksgiving pass without us participating in at least one more Memory Time. In bold capital letters, it read, It’s Memory Time. Although it was me saying it, everyone was hearing Dad’s booming voice. The part of the letter in Dad’s handwriting started into a memory that all of us knew so well. But now it included some of the details we had never heard before. It was about the time before he and Mom started dating. Apparently, he and Mr. Jenkins had been close friends for years, almost like brothers. A new girl moved to town and all of the boys were head over heels for her. As usual, boys of that age were shy around girls and only a few had the courage to talk to them. On a Monday, Dad said he confided in “Jenkie” (wow, we learned Mr. Jenkins had a nickname) that he was going to ask that new girl (Mom) out on a date for Friday. Well, Mr. Jenkins said, “Not if I ask her first”. With that said, they both raced up to Mom blabbering “will you go out with me, will you go out with me?” It scared her at first because she was new in town and really didn’t know many people. Well, Mom being Mom, said, “I’m having a hard time choosing between two such handsome boys. Whatever will I do?” After several minutes, while the boys were pushing and shoving each other, she firmly stated. “I will give my answer on Friday morning and whoever I choose will take me to the movies and buy me some popcorn with extra butter.” After more new details about the beginning of their life together, Dad ended his portion of the letter with, “The best man won”. Of course, the next sentence was “Next up is my sweet wife”.  Mom’s memory was short and sweet consisting of only one sentence. She stated, “I knew I was choosing your Dad on that Monday, but made him wait until Friday”.

There wasn’t a dry eye in the family as I finished reading their memories. Then I noticed the P.S. at the bottom. It read,

“We have prepared many letters with memories just like this one to be delivered at future Thanksgivings. We realize ‘Jenkie’ won’t be around forever, but he has assured us that his son, who is taking over his law office, will deliver them in the future. We won’t say how many there are in hopes that it will encourage everyone to continue attending Thanksgiving and Memory Time for years to come. We will be there too.”

With much love,

Mom and Dad.

9/19/2024

As I was searching through my old bench pictures to include on in this post, I remembered this one. It's not the prettiest place but the "glider bench" was comfortable as I waited on my laundry. The building on the right is the campground laundry. This was at Crystal Spring Campground in Ellendale, Minnesota back in June of 2018.

Ya'll take care of each other. Maybe I'll Cya down the road.