Title : Thanksgiving In the City, Reflections . . .
link : Thanksgiving In the City, Reflections . . .
Thanksgiving In the City, Reflections . . .
Today is officially Canadian Thanksgiving (here's a fascinating article about the respective histories of the American and the Canadian feast, in light of the indigenous celebrations that preceded contact) but like many Canadians, our family gathered for turkey dinner yesterday -- a much more congenial timing for those who need to be back at work Tuesday morning, allowing a solid 36 hours to digest that bird and get the dishes and leftovers sorted, the carcass simmering into stock on the stove. . .
No turkey carcass simmering on our stove, though, nor will we be making up sandwiches for lunch today. All the leftovers, all the dirty dishes, were left behind at our daughter and son-in-law's place last night as we kissed all good-night and headed back home (walking a whole block to get here ;-) with the empty pie plates (my contribution to the feast: two pumpkin, one apple) and a high chair.
My daughter and son-in-law had expanded their mid-century table to seat ten of us comfortably, but just as we were getting ready to sit down, the two-year-old wondered, just a bit imperiously, where his high chair was. Our hosts don't have a high chair anymore, but Nana and Granddad do, and I offered to pop home for ours against protests that we could easily manage without. I persisted (it just makes everything so much easier to corral the little guy, and he likes to be at a comfortable height to join the conversation), and Granddad decided he'd come help. Next thing we knew, three short people were at the door putting on their shoes, ready for an expedition.
Almost-Five stepped into the October evening in her sleeveless dress, threw her arms back as she looked up at the sky, and exclaimed "It's night-time. I love walking in the night!"
Two scarcely-trafficked crossings to make at one intersection, then less than a full city block, total, and one of the Littles grabbed the keys to scan our way in, another scampered through the door first to push the elevator button. City kids. They loved visiting us on the island, running on its dirt roads, clambering on its beaches, and I loved showing them that differently paced lifestyle.
But over this last year of living so near to two of our kids' families, here in the city, we've come to see more fully the wealth that urban life offers them, the competencies they're developing, the innocences they nonetheless are able to hold onto.
Inside our condo, we stopped the Two from taking off his shoes (he'd plonked onto the floor immediately to pull at them). The Almost-Five spotted the thermos they'd left behind last weekend, reminding me that I also wanted to return leggings and a pair of pink socks, similarly abandoned. Paul scooped up the highchair, and we all headed back out.
We reversed our short route via elevator and dark city sidewalk, crossing streets lit from above, the Two in my arms for a moment, pointing up to the dark sky, marvelling to me that it was night, his enthusiasm no less than his sister's for all its belatedness. All that October night-air magically crisp around us, and back inside, another elevator, to settle ourselves around the table, happily passing bowl after bowl around, serving spoons clanking, decisions about white or dark meat or both, and murmurs of "Please pass the . . . ." My dad's traditional turkey stuffing, which I've been improvising around for more than forty years, was missing, replaced by the apparently more contemporary (and safe, the kids tell us, not finding the greasy glories of seasoned bread cooked inside a bird worth the risk of food poisoning) oven-baked dressing.
Missing, but not missed, really. I'll admit I would have loved to have two more families at that table, have our whole crew together again. But otherwise, the feast gathered up all that was important from so many earlier Thanksgivings. It was an evening for gratitude, for appreciating what we have so close by.
This morning, the gratitude continues, extended into a reflection on our first year living here in the city. So many changes made to get here, and some still to make as we continue adjusting. I'm hoping to write a bit about that here over the next while, and I'm wondering if any of you have anything you're particularly curious about concerning the process of downsizing, of uprooting from one community to another at this stage of life, of retiring, or whatever. I can't promise I'll answer them all right away, but I'll be happy to try in future posts.
And before I sign off, here's a Back to the Future moment for you, a post from 2007, my first blogging year, and it seems we've done urban, non-traditional Thanksgivings before. . . .
Happy Thanksgiving! Feel free to share whatever you're feeling grateful for today, whether you celebrate Canadian Thanksgiving or not. Never too much gratitude, right?
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| Fall colours throughout courtesy of a local Community Garden |
We reversed our short route via elevator and dark city sidewalk, crossing streets lit from above, the Two in my arms for a moment, pointing up to the dark sky, marvelling to me that it was night, his enthusiasm no less than his sister's for all its belatedness. All that October night-air magically crisp around us, and back inside, another elevator, to settle ourselves around the table, happily passing bowl after bowl around, serving spoons clanking, decisions about white or dark meat or both, and murmurs of "Please pass the . . . ." My dad's traditional turkey stuffing, which I've been improvising around for more than forty years, was missing, replaced by the apparently more contemporary (and safe, the kids tell us, not finding the greasy glories of seasoned bread cooked inside a bird worth the risk of food poisoning) oven-baked dressing.
This morning, the gratitude continues, extended into a reflection on our first year living here in the city. So many changes made to get here, and some still to make as we continue adjusting. I'm hoping to write a bit about that here over the next while, and I'm wondering if any of you have anything you're particularly curious about concerning the process of downsizing, of uprooting from one community to another at this stage of life, of retiring, or whatever. I can't promise I'll answer them all right away, but I'll be happy to try in future posts.
And before I sign off, here's a Back to the Future moment for you, a post from 2007, my first blogging year, and it seems we've done urban, non-traditional Thanksgivings before. . . .
Happy Thanksgiving! Feel free to share whatever you're feeling grateful for today, whether you celebrate Canadian Thanksgiving or not. Never too much gratitude, right?
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