Our Small Thanksgiving

I get raised eyebrows ever time I tell folks one Hopper tradition for Thanksgiving.  It does resemble the ones when I was at home.  Momma would spend all day cooking for us.  Daddy loved to eat momma’s cooking.  In fact, everyone loved momma’s cooking except momma.

Vulcan Materials, the place where daddy worked as a heavy equipment mechanic, gave all of its employees a big Butterball turkey for Thanksgiving and a ham for Christmas.  Momma would bake that turkey, fix turkey and dressing, cakes, pies, and every other kind of dish imaginable for Thanksgiving dinner.  We celebrated being thankful.  Dad and mom taught us the importance of being thankful for what God had blessed us.

Momma’s table was so full that there was hardly room for us to put our plates but we managed.  Dad always set at the head of the table.  Momma, when she sat, was next to daddy and my sister sat next to her.  My two brothers sat to daddy’s left and I sat on the other end opposite dad.

The first rule was to say the blessing.  Dad required the blessing even though most of our lives dad did not know the Lord.  Once the blessing was said, the feast was on.  Daddy had certain rules for eating.  They were Hopper rules and not “Dear Heloise” rule of etiquette. 

One rule was if someone asked for a dish, that dish went directly to the requestee.  If someone intercepted the dish and removed any amount of contents, dad would make the guilty party remove the food then proceed to lecture on the rules of passing the plate.  Another important rule was never rake food from a bowl or dish.  You must dip the food.

When one item of food remained, such as a biscuit, you had to ask, “Does anyone want that last biscuit?”  If there were no takers, then you got it.  If for some reason someone they wanted it, dad would ask, “How many have you had?”  If you had what he considered plenty, the one asking for it would get it.

The biggest no-no of Hopper rules for feasting was if you dipped it, you had better eat it.  Daddy constantly warned that our eyes better not be bigger than our bellies.  He never cared how much you ate, but you had better eat what you got.  In fact, when one of us did not want to eat dad would remind momma, “Honey they will eat when they’re hungry.”

I miss those days of sitting around the table and passing the bowls filled with momma’s cooking.  Most meals at the house remain on the stove and we dip from pots and pans onto our plates and go to the table.  My sister Diane calls it “feeding the dogs” style of eating. I have heard that it will suppress one from eating too much by having to go back.  All I can say about that is I eat more because walking back creates more room for more food.  I was much thinner when we passed food around the table.  Mrs. Wilkes in Savannah, Georgia serves her guests like momma did and people think it is quaint and fancy dining.

I had the privilege of eating at a nice restaurant operated by folks from New Orleans.  They asked if we wanted to dine by passing the bowls, of course, I did and I loved every minute.  It was good to say, “Pass the creamed taters.”

For a change, one Hopper Thanksgiving  I will start a fire of hickory wood.  When the coals are just right, I grilled vegetables, squash, green tomatoes, onions, and yellow bell peppers.  I threw on some potatoes wrapped in foil and grilled rib-eye steaks.  That was back before COVID and I could afford them.

I remind people when they say “No turkey” that you can get turkey anywhere.  It is good to start new traditions.  This year Lisa and I decided to have a small “traditional” Thanksgiving.  We had the turkey, the dressing, and all the other stuff.  It was just the two of us.  I was thankful she was there and she was thankful I was there.  We sure had a lot of food to eat till Christmas.

 

From our home to yours, have a blessed Thanksgiving.

 

  In everything give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you (I Thessalonians 5:18 KJV).