Thanksgiving memories

Dad with Marty left and Jeanie right grew up at 909 Poplar in Atown.







Above - the living room at Momo and Bubba's.
Left to right - Momo, Mom, Dad with Cindy, Bub, Susi with our doggy bro Jud and me on my other Grandma's lap (we called her Gramma) My other gramps Pops must have been behind the lense.


I love Thanksgiving! It's a great holiday, sans much of the hoopla of Christmas. And turkey tastes so good with all the fixins.

When I was a child, I was mostly oblivious to all that went into Thanksgiving dinner. When my grandparents (Dad's parents, Wally and Zora Bullock - we called 'em Bubba and Momo) were still in good health and living in their home at 909 Poplar in Atlantic, we went to their house for Thanksgiving. It was the house my dad and his sisters grew up in.

It was a grand old two story house complete with a dank, dark basement and an attic with creaky stairs and insulation showing between the rafters. My sisters told me not to step on that stuff, because I would sink into oblivion. And I believed 'em! We usually entered the house from the alley - parking behind their detached single car garage, going up the walk to the porch and in through the large kitchen. Beyond the kitchen was the formal dining area which contained a beautiful table that sat 12 or so easily.

From the dining area, you passed through the formal entry area from the large front porch (complete with wooden swing). That room went on into the combination living/family room. To the left - the front of the house, were Momo and Bub's chairs and the center of their universe (by that time they were getting up there in years), the color console television. Bubba's pipe collection and tobacco sat by his chair. I loved to smell the stuff. Momo always had her Salem cigs by her side.

On the other end of the room sat Momo's upright piano. In between there was a gorgeous wood burning fireplace and a floral print couch. Momo's prized mirror (she never would tell anyone what it set her back) was in the room too. I hear Momo could play any song by ear, but I don't remember her playing the piano. There were built in book shelves that contained Momo's cruet collection. Connecting the living room and the kitchen was a long bathroom - stool, sink and a large bathtub.

The door to the dark basement was in that room. On the wall, in the plaster in the stairwell were my handprint belonging to Dad and his sisters Martha and Jean. The basement included the washer and dryer, and huge hold stove and the room where the coal was kept before gas heat was installed. There was a little area where we were sent to play - there were a few toys down there. But we never stayed long. It was cold and dark.

Inside the front entrance sat my favorite item - a pine chest of drawers that contained the toys and games. There was some type of board game - Speed Racer? Can't quite remember. It was old. There was a suede bag of marbles in there too. And tiddly winks. Remember that game? We used Momo's wrought iron corn muffin tin to "wink" into. I grew up thinking that was part of the game, until I was older and figured out those corn shaped things were for baking.

Stairs in the entry way lead up to the four bedrooms and bath. Bub had the largest room, and by then Momo slept in her own room. Bubba did oil painting and one bedroom kept his easel and paints, along with paintings in various stages. The forth bedroom was where we stayed when we overnighted with them. (it was a good jumping bed too).

In the middle of all those bedrooms was the door that led to the attic, up creaky wooden stairs. It contained various treasures including my aunties prom dresses. Along the steps there was a built in bookshelf where I found many beloved books - Happy Hollisters, Bobbsey Twins, Nancy Drew and more left behind by Dad and his sisters. I still have a few of those books.

Thanksgiving memories in that house are many and rich. Besides my immediate fam and M & B, various others attended through the years. Bubba's brother Max (un PC nicknamed Nig thanks to his dark skin tone and no I didn't get none of that...) and his wife Mary Lou, Hazel Marshall - Momo's bestie to name a few. Momo was a fab entertainer, and had a very quick wit. After we played and the adults had drinks (we always have been an evening eating bunch - no "dinner" turkey for us), it was time to eat. The table was gorgeous - complete with special china and a crystal turkey shaped cranberry dish. Black olives were featured on the relish tray - and they always made their way onto our finger tips.

A card table was set up for turkey carving next to the table. One year it collapsed, dropping the turkey to the floor. Momo whipped it out to the kitchen in a flash and brushed it off. Before we knew it she returned saying "good thing I had that back up turkey in the kitchen!" Many of us like dark meat so she would get 2 extra legs. And after we eat, dad would lay on the floor moaning saying he'd eaten too much. And I can never pass a time eating turkey when I don't think and say his fave phrase "Sherky toot in Kenver Dolorado" which came from an old joke about a drunk.

The best thing about my memories of Thanksgivings past at my grandparents is that I was too young to remember any unpleasantness. Or I've blocked it out. I'm sure there were harsh words at times, fighting and crabbiness (and that doesn't include sibling spats - that's just the grownups) dry turkey and too much alcohol. But not in my memory. I love Thanksgiving.