The children that my husband and I had, to take care of us in our dotage, grew up and moved an average of 2000 miles away.
We found them.
One claims to have moved to South Florida so that he could offer us snow-free winters in our old age. Right! Another, our ‘gypsy’ son, finally married and settled down and tells us we’re welcome any time; it’s a mere ten-hour drive from our house. The other son we can see whenever we want. All we have to do is pick up the remote to find him squatting in sewers, or selling trucks, or interrupting important programming to talk about his ‘butt’ on national TV.
I’m able to joke about it because we have a healthy relationship with three sons who love us enough to pretend they enjoy our visits.
Being separated from family on holidays is, as the grandkids would say, ‘a bummer,’ — especially when it’s a holiday that’s synonymous with family — like Thanksgiving. But, due to scheduling conflicts, this is one of those years. Maybe we’ll take out a picture album and bask in the glow of ‘Thanksgiving past.’ Like that year I was unintentionally ‘outed’ by my own son.
Every cook has culinary secrets — some undisclosed ingredient, perhaps, or a favorite bottled sauce or flavoring… I’d grown up in a house where culinary short-cuts were tantamount to slothfulness and fraud. No box mixes on my mother’s shelves. Canned biscuits had never crossed our thresh-hold, and TV dinners were as likely to be found in our freezer as a toilet on the dining room table. I carried on my mother’s tradition, or so she believed.
I took precautions on that Thanksgiving Day, so as not to reveal my shameful domestic secret; my elderly mother would be there, after all. Not unlike those early Pilgrims, she and Dad would appear at our table at the appointed time bearing the bountiful fruits of their ‘harvest’ — fresh green beans cooked to perfection in ham-flavored broth, and a to-die-for candied sweet potato casserole with brown sugar, a dash of maple syrup, and walnuts, topped with toasted marshmallow.
The table was laden with a traditional Thanksgiving feast, and as the family took their seats, I slid the golden-brown, stuffed turkey and homemade (sort of) gravy aside to make room for my mashed potatoes — creamy white, with a chunk of rich yellow butter melting in the well at the top. As usual, no one suspected my secret, and as usual, I’d been careful to hide the incriminating evidence behind cereal boxes on the shelf.
I’d have gotten away with the deception had it not been for a son who’d spent the day meandering about the house and grounds with our video camera perched on his shoulder.
Following dinner, we took our ritual Thanksgiving Day walk through the autumn woods, video camera and all — (our family wasn’t into football.) After a rousing game of Trivial Pursuit, our son popped the behind-the-scenes-Norman-Rockwell family Thanksgiving documentary into the VCR. We sat back to relive the day: men and 
boys splitting logs in the garden, a cornucopia on the sideboard; the arrangement of cornstalks and pumpkins on the porch; wildlife scampering through the woods; and interviews with family members — with the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade in the background.
“And in the kitchen we find our gourmet chef hard at work,” said the roving reporter. “Say hi, to our viewers, Mom…” which I did, straightening my apron and waving at the blinking red light. And there it was, big as life on the TV screen — in the center of the shot — a family-size box of Idaho Premium Instant Mashed Potatoes. There were gasps, laughter, and good-natured finger-pointing.
The very best part of that Thanksgiving came at the end of the day when Mom shared a secret of her own — canned sweet potatoes (and not for the first time, it seems.)
There will be no instant mashed potatoes on my table this year, or canned sweet potatoes. We’ll be joining friends at the local restaurant for a no-fuss, no muss traditional Thanksgiving dinner. And I hear their mashed potatoes are ‘real.’
11 Comments
Thanks for sharing the past time photos. Too funny. I just got a post that Mike will be airing the 13th of Dec. It is about time. At least he is still employed and glad to hear he is not living in MD with you and dad. I saw the Halloween photos. Too cute. Hope you all had a nice Thanksgiving. Just a quick question. Will you be in any of the new shows?LOL Maybe the Viva towels will come in handy.LOL Got to get back to my diry job. Enjoy your week.Pat from Auburn
As I was always my mothers helper in the kitchen at Thanksgiving and was born in Idaho, the land of Potatoes, my mother and I always kept our secret of our hatred of peeling potatoes to ourselves. We swore on bibles that we’d never tell until a couple years ago when we a houseful of guests were coming over and, as we got out our potato peelers, mom said “screw this” handed me a fiver and said “go get something instant, we don’t have time for this!” I did because “we didn’t” and know one ever said anything to the contrary.
I love your stories Mrs. Rowe, especially about the holidays. Your kids grew up in the same era I did and so I can totally relate and actually gain a perspective of my own mothers point of view.
Happy Thanksgiving to you and Mr Rowe!
Gregg
(GGG)
Oh the secrets we try to hide!! I’m sure your love and humor could only sideline the spuds. I myself admit to the guilts of doctoring stovetop.
Wishing both you and Mr. Rowe a safe and pleasant turkey day. Maybe together for x-mas? Here’s hoping. Thanks for the laugh!!
maureen
I always enjoy your stories, Mrs. Rowe. Happy Thanksgiving to you and Mr. Rowe.
ps, I’m glad you shaved the stache, Mike.
Oh that’s a moustache? I thought Mike had some dirt on his lip. Funny story, Mrs. Rowe. Happy Thanksgiving!
It’s such a treat to read your blogs Mrs. Rowe! They are always very warm-hearted and funny. Thank you for taking the time to write them. I’m sorry you all won’t be able to be together this year for Thanksgiving but I hope Christmas will bring all back around the table together.
Love the mustache Mike.
Happy Thanksgiving Rowe family!
No fuss, no muss is certainly something to look forward to… Happy Thanksgiving!
Hahahahaa, nice mustache Mike. I love photos of young adults playing with facial hair. Always good for a laugh.
Ah….I love family stories! And the really good ones can get the exact same laughs as they did when they happened! Unfortunately, I won’t be able to make it home for Thanksgiving this year either, but you’ve inspired me now to dig up an “oldie, but goodie” for when I call my parents…I know it’ll make us feel like we’re all back together again. This was a funny one! A Happy Thanksgiving to you and Mr. Rowe.
I promise never to reveal your secret, Mrs. R. Although, I can’t account for anyone else reading this. Fun story, as always. Hope you and Mr. Rowe have a wonderful Thanksgiving.
Btw…that is one stylin ‘stache, Mike. LOL!
My dotage insurance lives close by, but they are still so busy that every holiday practically needs an excel spreadsheet. My Mom has made it her Christmas tradition to hold a party in the middle of December. With 9 kids, their spouses, and myriad grand kids, she has found it is the only way to see some of us.
Instant Potatoes!!!! Never. But I’m not going to release my secret.
Happy Thanksgiving to you and to Mr. Rowe.