Fond Thanksgiving Memories

After a fantastic Thanksgiving dinner, my friend Pamela asked us about our holiday traditions and memories. I did not share this memory, as I did not know most of the people at the dinner, but I have two memories, one of them fondly remembered and one that was very traumatic.

My first memory was the first time I had to cook a thanksgiving dinner. My first husband and I were stationed in Giessen Germany in 1971, and had a group of Larry's army buddies who were desperate for a traditional, non-mess hall Thanksgiving dinner. Since I was one of the few women in the group, fondly known as the Fronhausen commune (remember it was the 70's and Fronhausen was the small German town where we lived). I come from a long line of fantastic cooks, and had always deferred to my Grandmother, Mother and Sister to create the lovingly traditional dinner. I asked for favorite recipes from the three of them), purchased the turkey and trimmings. I don't know if you are famaliar with european kitchens, but the stoves are VERY small and I had a HUGE turkey to feed the Fronhausen commune. The Goddess was looking over my shoulder, and all came out well.
The sense of friendship, camaraderie and thankfulness will be something that I will always remember. I have lost touch with all of the Fronhausen Commune, and miss them all.
My next memory was not as pleasant, but will always remain with me too.
My beloved father died October 9, 1993. We were all totally devastated, as it was a horrible accidental death. We gathered, as usual, at my Mother's house for Thanksgiving that year. My father was the patriarch, sat at the head of the table, and always used the electric knife to carve the turkey. We all did OK that first Thansgiving without him, but when we went to sit down at the table, I almost blurted out "Aren't we going to wait for Daddy?" That would have completely ruined the dinner for everyone, and I was able to supress that comment. There was a hole in my heart for that dinner, and I am sure that everyone else had their own feelings. Each year became easier, but I still miss him. Especially the electric knife whirring through the tender, tasty Thanksgiving. Someone else has assumed the turkey carving duties and someone sits at the head of the table, but no one will ever replace my Daddy Lonnie Joseph Adkisson.