Thanksgiving 2008

[dedalus_1947]

Be thankful for your blessings all,
and the happy memories we recall.
For times we spent in winter and fall,
before our children grew wise and tall.

I think it was their tall symmetry that first caught my attention. Once I noticed them, I couldn’t stop my fascination with the balanced perspective and narrative unease they started in me. The angular tableaux presented so many mysteries and questions that my gaze kept returning to it.

 

I was sitting in a bookstore café and reading room on the day after Thanksgiving. The room was steeped in dark earth colors with one beige wall reflecting the light that washed in through a row of windows. The wooden furniture was solid and simple. A series of straight-lined, mahogany colored coffee tables with high-backed chairs bordered the glassed-in wall. The room had the air of a college library, with more tables and chairs filling the center of the room, and one taller, circular table with 4 highchairs at the far end. A coffee bar with two servers lay just beyond this stilted perch. At first I took no notice of anything unusual. Then a series of visual images began intruding into my reading and writing:

• The straight lines of the high chair melded into long angles of the jean pedal-pusher slacks and legs.
• Amber-framed, horn-rimmed glasses tilted at a 45º slant, on a head of tightly braided strands of black hair.
• Elongated upper arms were hidden under an emerald colored, diamond-shaped poncho sweater which covered the angular shoulders, and reached past the mid-section of her long waist.
• Bony elbows, followed by long, slender arms, hands and fingers extended from the knitted fabric, holding a sheet of white paper.
• A shorter, mirror image, in white sweatshirt and pale jeans, sat at the accompanying chair, her feet dangling down, without reaching the floor.
• The smaller companion moved skittishly around the table and chairs.
• The taller girl was slim, slender, and solemn.
• She sat and stood ramrod straight and still, with long legs and lean arms, and ignored the little girl by her side.

 They were two young, black girls, sitting in tall, bar-like, high chairs in the reading room of Borders Book Store. They were about 10 and 7 years of age, and their stilted, circular table was strewn with rectangular binders, notebooks, and workbooks. The older of the girls stood about 5’-9”, and was most seriously intense in her work. She sat erect, holding a sheet of paper in one hand. A long arm and elbow formed a perfect right angle with her body as she held her work in a slender hand with tapered fingers. Lean and long, she presented a queenly pose as she studied the paper through amber-colored, horn-rimmed eye glasses. Her swan-like neck was motionless as she mouthed the written words to herself; and her tightly-braided hair formed a delicate design of black lace, pulled closely around her head. Her younger sister did not use glasses, and wore different color slacks. She was a smaller, colt-like, kinetic version of her sober sister. Frozen in this eternal moment of infinite possibility, the older sibling looked like an aloof, ebony princess, with no intention of recognizing her sister. Their mother sat off to the side, away from the smaller child’s occasional antics and whisperings. She too was surrounded by papers, textbooks, and notebooks. She would periodically look away from the page and the paragraphs she was highlighting in yellow and inspect the actions of these two, younger versions of herself. What was she thinking as she gazed upon the unlimited futures of her children? What were her personal circumstances? Was she a graduate student? Were those law books in front of her, or accounting books? Was she married, single, or divorced?
 

 

I pulled back from the unfolding diorama before me, when I realized I was filling in the narrative gaps with struggles and conflicts I was inventing. I’d gone from fact to fiction in only a few brief glimpses of these three individuals, with no basis in reality. These girls were total strangers, and I was jumping to dramatic conclusions based on little evidence or clues. Yet there was something hauntingly familiar about this scene. They reminded me of a tableau I had witnessed on many occasions in another lifetime. The characters, sex, and ethnicity were different, but their relationship was the same. In that life, so long ago, I too would secretly watch a tall and skinny boy, deep in concentrated study, with a smaller sister by his side. He would have been about the same angular height and width as the solemn ebony princess, and he would have ignored his younger sibling in the same stern manner. In those days, I would not know what to imagine as I watched them standing, sitting, and moving, when they accompanied me to a library or bookstore. I could not visualize a future for them in those days, because to do so imposed an artificial boundary. I would just watch and wonder at the miracle that made them my children. Their unbounded futures astounded me. It was a moment I wanted to last forever.

 

Our family and children came together for Thanksgiving last week. The simplicity of this year’s reunion made it especially memorable. Instead of going to a family dinner at another home, with additional families included – this was a small and private affair. Our children did not bring friends, roommates, or guests - only their fiancées. It would be an uncomplicated feast with only two goals: to savor a fine meal, and give thanks for the gift of family. Prisa arrived early and helped set up the hors d’oeuvres and drinks. She was going to spend the night and leave the following day. She and Kathy had planned a busy “Black Friday” agenda: breakfast at Nico’s Coffee Shop, checking the bridal registry at Crate and Barrel, visiting her grandfather, and returning to coach the J.V. Basketball practice at her south bay high school. Her fiancé Joe would join us during dessert, after stopping to visit and dine with long time friends and family. Toñito and his fiancé arrived after 6 o’clock. Jonaya came bearing a cornucopia of delicious side dishes.  She had cut, cooked and baked mashed potatoes (regular and garlic), collared greens, macaroni and cheese, and sweet potatoes. She had expanded on her cuisine of last year, when her talent was first revealed to us. During his bachelor days, Toñito was known to bake a pie or two for Thanksgiving, but Jonaya’s culinary magic now took priority in the kitchen. While homemade pie was a charming addition to a meal, a delicious side dish was transforming. Collared greens were my new discovery this year; and on tasting the sweet potatoes, I was again struck by how gastronomically complimentary they are with turkey and stuffing. In short, it was a delightful dining and family reunion. I recall laughter, smiles, and feasting – lots of feasting. The Nordic halls of mythic Asgard could not have hosted a finer banquet than the sumptuous Thanksgiving meal we devoured that night.
 

Comments

Thanksgiving 2008

[(Anonymous)]

Tony,

Wonderful Thanksgiving story. You do as I do in places were people are, observe them! But your reveal of why you were watching was wonderful. I don't remember ever doing that. I think the reason you have understood me, when most others haven't, is because you are really an Artist! But you were an Artist smart enough to support your family well by taking time to be an Educator because of your love of children. Thank you. The though of it is inspiring.

Tommy

Tommy

the final picture

[(Anonymous)]

Tones,
I can exactly picture the scene as you describe it, with Tony and Pris in the roles of these two girls. Isn't parenthood the most amazing journey? Certainly it is more out of than in our control. I am so blessed to watch you enjoy the ride.
The picture of Tonito and Prisa says so much. It is as sweet as the pictures of their early childhood, and the most unguarded of Tonito that I can remember.
You have been a great Dad and it shows in these faces.
Mary K.