Thanksgiving 2019 and SP

Sitting here alone on Thanksgiving Day, thinking of Thanksgivings past. My Daddy had eight brothers and sisters. Thanksgiving was always a wonderful affair at his mother’s, my Grandma Taylor. She entered heaven at 98-years-old, long outliving Grandpa Taylor, who I have limited memories of. For many years she hosted the Taylor clan Thanksgiving Day meal, even when the daughters later took over the cooking. The food. Ah, the food. Those ladies could sure cook. I know dressing aka stuffing comes in many, many types…and it’s like pizza…it’s almost a geographic and cultural thing. How you like it, that is. However, I’m originally from Texas and the Taylor folks loved our good ol’ cornbread dressing. Who wants pie? Not me. Seconds of dressing, please.

Eventually, my Aunt Nora took over hostess duties. Over the years the gathering shrunk as kids grew up and they had kids and so. Those who could, still journeyed to little Boyd, Texas for the annual affair. The food was only part of the sweet time for me. Sitting around with the elder ladies listening to their wonderful retelling of family stories and memories; pleasant conversations with my cousins, watching the uncles huddle together talking football and EVERYONE leaning in from behind their TV trays to see the Dallas Cowboys play.

Aunt Nora passed this year, gone to be with her beloved husband, Martin. She was a pistol and 91-years-young, but tired and missing her man. Thanksgiving meals for the extended bunch ended a few years before this, but I don’t think I’ve ever missed them more. I’m sitting alone in the semi-dark with my laptop while poor DH has to work today. Nothing resembling a traditional Thanksgiving meal is in our kitchen. My in-laws are growing frailer by the day and asked us to postpone a visit as my DIL is down with pneumonia. They live 3-1/2 hours away.

It rained all night. It’s cold and dreary today. I want to crawl back under the covers and do nothing. Instead, I’m letting my thoughts come out the ends of my fingers onto to the keyboard. Writing has always been cathartic for me. Sometimes just seeing the unformed tendrils in my brain become solid letters – black on a white computer screen – eases my mind.

All of this started when I was pondering what I would post as the question of the week for the Over 60, 70 and above! SP team. I was inclined towards “How do you keep boredom from sending you to the kitchen?” Boredom has always been my breakpoint for mindless eating and lots of it. Sure, other fgggggggdc (sorry, that was Miracle the rescue kitty sharing his thoughts – LOL). Ok, starting again. Sure, other things beside boredom have me standing in front of the fridge or pantry. We learned an acronym in Al-Anon called HALT. It stands for Hungry, Angry, Lonely, Tired. I expanded it HALTS(s) and it goes like this for me: Am I really hungry? Or am I angry, lonely, tired, stressed or sick. I’ve got to figure out how to work a B in because boredom is my biggest trigger. Probably stressed or lonely after that.

Even if no one reads this, I’m thankful SP gives me a platform for sharing my thoughts and it worked! I’m feeling better already. I’m going to get dressed, turn on some lights and do one thing. Then, the next thing and the next thing and so on. Those are the actions that get me out of my woe-is-me stinkin’ thinking and stinkin’ thinking eating. 😊

God bless you all Sparkers. I hope you can recall at least one beautiful Thanksgiving memory today, even if this day is not the best for you. Here’s a thought – you might be the star in someone else’s sweet memory. If not, why not audition? Be kind, be loving. Pay it forward.

Happy Thanksgiving

Donna G