With the Thanksgiving Holiday approaching, I cannot help but remember my Dad, and my childhood. You understand, my Father was a Coal Miner, raising at the time 4 growing children, all close in age. There were times when the old car we had could not make it through the snow that fell in the Mountain 'Hollers' we lived in and regardless, Dad had to work. So many Winter days, and us without a phone, Dad would head out walking down a mile holler and stand in the cold hoping to catch the attention of some passing Miner he worked with to get a ride to and from work. The Miner passing would kindly let Dad out the 'mouth of the holler' at the end of the day, and rush on home to his own waiting family. Dad, after working all day in a cold, dark, damp Coal Mines, would then walk up the mile holler before getting home to the ALWAYS hot meal my Momma would have waiting. I know, there must have been many days he thought about that hot meal while wading through the snow and wind. Those mining dollars were precious. So, at Thanksgiving, I NOW look back at the meal we had that no expense was spared to bring a Turkey (the biggest one he and Momma could find in the Market) and all the fixin's. Momma always cooked the Thanksgiving meal. I remember standing at the stove watching her stir, and spin in awe as she could bring the meal to the table, nothing arriving cold from the stovetop.
When my Father became disabled from a rock fall in the Coal Mines, Dad took over cooking the Thanksgiving Turkey and Gravy. Momma did the rest of the Dinner. It was only after my Father's injury that my Mother had her first job outside the home. Dad became notorious for his fried chicken at the Holiday dinners at the Clinic where my Momma worked. He prided himself on the amount of Gravy he could make for Thanksgiving, and sometimes became a little over generous with the sage, and Momma would tell him 'bout it....
Now, when my Doug first started coming by as we began dating and he'd open the Refrigerator door only to have food items literally roll out, I was a bit embarrassed as I am the only person in the House. I didn't want him to think I hoarded food! But, after much self analysis I finally realized that this 'full fridge' was instilled in me as a child. My Dad's philosophy was that a working Man had to pay his bills, clothe the family, pay the rent and car...he should at least have what he wants to eat. No expense was spared on our Holiday meals, and those dollars were worked out *literally* by my Fathers own hands. He never begrudged handing over what he'd risked his life for everyday by entering that mines, to give us food and shelter. Thanksgiving was a wonderful time for us. On the outside, we looked poor. We had a four room house, packed every drop of water from a hand dug spring, built our fires from wood and coal, and we even had an outdoor potty! Momma washed our clothes every Season on a Wringer Washer, and would hang them out to dry, sometimes in freezing temperatures. Yet she never failed to have a hot Dinner on the table. I was never popular in School, but at home I was a Princess, ask my Brothers! ...well, at least 'til Sis came along. Yes, we looked poor on the outside, but on the inside of our little home, we were packing some serious blessings.~:)
.jpg)
