I am the product of two families. My parents divorced very early and I grew up with two dads. Not in the way it's spoken of now, but with two men of thought of as my dad. My Grannie was my father's mother and her house was the gathering place for the Carter family for most holidays. At any given time, there would be a mess of them there for no other reason than it was Grannie's. But come Thanksgiving, it would be packed from one end to the other with family. Grannie had seven children and all but one had kids, so there were plenty of cousins, and aunts and uncles, not to mention friends who would drop by.
Thanksgiving there for me would begin on Wednesday afternoon when school would let out. I'd have my suitcase packed and mom would drop me off at the bus station for the two hour bus ride from Bowie To Electra. I started doing that when I was about six years old. (Anybody feel safe letting your six year old travel alone on a bus for two hours these days?) Sometimes someone would meet me but most times I just lugged my suitcase and hoofed it to her house. I could always smell it from the corner. The aroma of pies would make my mouth water. Add to it, I'd hit town about supper time and be ravenous for some of her cooking. After supper, we'd start setting the tables up, the long table up front and the kids tables in the back. The long table by the time we got the glider stand and door off the front bedroom and used for an extension would seat nearly 30 people. the card tables would then hold the kids in the back room off the kitchen. The average head count back then was around thirty ans have seen nearly fifty be there.
Now,Grannie and my Aunt Willene didn't do all the cooking, it was a family style pot luck where every family brought something. Dad always brought something he smoked or barbecued which was either a big sirloin roast or a ham.I kid you not, I've seen three turkeys, a couple hams and a roast on the table and every vegetable imaginable, including a pot of red beans(this is Texas after all.) before the meal, we'd all gather for the blessing round the big table so my uncle Jr. would say the blessing. It was a Baptist blessing and I swear he was trying to pray those turkeys into heaven. He and I were the Baptists in the family, the rest were Methodists if you get my drift. Then we'd load our plates and settle in for a family meal.
After the meal while the women cleaned, covered the leftovers, and set out the pies; the menfolk would claim the card tables for games of Spades and the domino game. Now Carters are not what you'd call competitive, Carters play for blood in anything we do. And the domino game was watched by all us kids as long as we were quiet. The teams usually consisted of my cousins Tommy and Don, Dad and my Uncle Edward and my Uncle Jr and his son Larry. Tommy and Don had grown up together and were the team to beat. The yelling from the tables along with the laughing, taunting and occasional cuss word or ten could be heard down the street. Once, when I was there on leave while in the Navy, I had to sub for my dad as Edwards' partner. I'm a fair player, but nowhere in their league. After a very poor play of mine that cost us the game, Edward chucked his last domino at me, catching me right between the eyes, then cussed dad for not teaching me to play better. Lesson learned: Never bring fives without blanks. Tommy nearly fell out of his chair laughing. Good times.
My Grannie is gone now along with my dad and all his brothers and sisters. A few cousins have passed also. They may be gone, but my memories of them are still here and strongIf I close my eyes, I can still see them; circled round grannie in her rocker as we all watched and rooted for out team, the Dallas Cowboys playing the Thanksgiving Day Game. Like I said earlier, Good times.
Happy Thanksgiving Y'all
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