Thanksgiving 2011: Over the River and Through the Woods

Thanksgiving 2011, Part One is here.

Our tradition for Thanksgiving has developed into an annual trek north to the lovely state of Pennsylvania to spend time with my brother David and his family, and so again this year we made that journey.  However, unlike other years, we made a slight detour, forsaking the interstate highway and wending our way through the countryside so that we could drive through Little Cove, the area in which my mother grew up, stopping to visit relatives and see once-familiar places.  I knew it would be a trip absolutely laden with nostalgia, and it did not disappoint.

As we drove along on our way to the Cove, we noticed several places where the water in rivers seemed to be rather high, most noticeably in Hancock, Maryland, where we stopped for a bite of lunch at the local Park 'n' Dine.  The best parts of our lunch?  The view of the river through a wide wall of windows, the surprisingly quick service and food preparation, and the nice little old lady who came over to our table to compliment us on the good behavior of our children and tell us that she used to be a schoolteacher.  The worst parts?  The dated and run-down appearance of the restaurant and the...ahem...lack of cleanliness in the men's restroom (so I was told--I'm not reporting from personal experience).  ;-)  The funniest part?  The way all eight of us shared food with each other all around our circular table.  The boys, especially the little ones, demonstrated that not only is the grass greener on the other side of the fence but the food is better on someone else's plate; and they asked for bites of nearly everyone's food.  We obliged; and as they sampled our potato chips and sandwiches, we took bites of their french fries and applesauce, helping them to clear their plates even as they did the same for ours.  The way we were acting, it would have been more convenient if we had had a revolving table so that we could have set it in motion and all grabbed a bite as each person's plate went by!  ;-)

After that, we drove on, noticing creeks out of their banks and pastures made marshy by the heavy rains that Maryland and Pennsylvania have experienced recently.  If I remember correctly my brother's words, he said that in the beginning of September, Pennsylvania surpassed its record for annual rainfall.  At the beginning of September!  With four more months to go in the year!  No wonder we saw high water.

After lunch, it didn't take long to get to Little Cove, winding our way on a little country road through woods and fields to our first stop: a visit with my great aunt Rosa Lee, the sister of my mother's mother.  

At 91 years of age, Aunt Rosa Lee is doing very well--still living by herself, still driving (but not to the big city; when she needs to go there, her nephew who lives nearby or one of his family takes her), still alert and spunky, although age has slowed her body and speech slightly.  Seeing my children playing (mostly) quietly...

 ...in her always-tidy living room filled with dustless knickknacks, an ever-present candy bowl, and other "treasures" took me back to my days of being a child and sitting in that room.  There's a feel to that room: the need for quiet respect, the wonderment at all the pretty and special things, and the longing for a piece of candy from the bowl.  It was fun to watch my boys as they experienced all of that.  Although I was a little nervous about how they would do (and Jeff and I exchanged anxious glances a few times as one or another of our children did something slightly out of line), our boys actually heeded our this-is-how-you-need-to-act-here-because-it's-not-appropriate-to-treat-a-91-year-old-like-you-treat-your-brothers speech fairly well, and nothing got broken.  Whew!  ;-)

Aunt Rosa Lee has always had a tenderness about her, and she still does.  How grateful I am to have had the privilege of knowing her through the years, and this visit was very special to me.  Plus, it gave me the opportunity to have the closest thing to a four-generation picture that I'll get.

I wish my grandmother could be in that picture, too; but at least her sister was able to stand there with my mother, myself, and my daughter.

After we said goodbye, gave gentle hugs, and waved to Aunt Rosa Lee who stood in the doorway and watched until we were out of sight, we drove to another sentimental place: my great-grandparents' farm.

 I never knew my great-grandfather, since he died long before I was born; but I was fortunate to know my great-grandmother, the Grace whose first name became my middle one.  She lived on this farm, alone in the big farmhouse, until she died peacefully in her sleep at the age of 98, I believe.  One of her sons, Uncle Junior, and his wife, Aunt Thelma, lived on another house on the farm; and so did their son, Little Austin, the 3rd generation of Austins in that family.  My great-grandma had lots of close family support, and that allowed her to remain independently in her own home until the end.  Don't we all wish to be so blessed?

As we drove on the little road that literally goes through the middle of the farm, who should we see but Little Austin himself?  He is my mother's cousin (in case you got lost in the genealogy like I often do!), and he still lives there on the farm, although he has a job in town.  When we saw him, we just stopped right there and opened the van door.  After recovering from his surprise at seeing us, he leaned right in...

 ...and had a nice chat.

I asked if I could take his picture, and he sort of laughed as he said yes.

As he and my parents continued to talk and catch up on each other's lives, my gaze drifted around to various parts of the farm.  Uncle Junior had a junkyard, so it was never a very tidy place, but my memories are pleasant.  Childhood pleasure does not necessarily depend on a clean environment!  ;-)

Through these windows in the old barn, I could see the stanchions where the cows used to be milked.  Though years have passed, I could still visualize my great-grandmother, a worn sweater over her faded print dress, standing in the barn...and my great-uncle, doing his chores and wearing his blue bib overalls.  I'm not sure I ever saw him in any other clothes but that.

 An old tractor caught my eye.

 When was it last driven?

 What stories could this old seat tell of those who had climbed up to guide the tractor over the fields?

Where had these huge tires taken it?

And then the house.

The place where Grandma McKee lived and loved and worked and served and laid down to rest and died.

 The place where we visited her, sometimes bringing a red velvet cake for her birthday, often being offered goldfish crackers which she always seemed to have on hand.  We always sat in one certain room, probably swinging our legs as children and wondering when the adults would ever finish up their conversation.  The rest of the house was unfamiliar to me, and it felt very mysterious whenever I ventured from that one room.  Even going into the kitchen was exciting, but going all the way upstairs to go to the bathroom felt like a true expedition.  What funny impressions children develop!

Even though in the eyes of the world, there's nothing special about this particular run-down old farm near the Maryland-Pennsylvania border, to me it is precious, and I was so glad to just be there this week.

Simply being there.  Seeing these places with my own eyes.  Showing them to my children.  Remembering so many memories that I didn't even know that I knew until I was there and they came flowing back to my mind.  Seeing Austin again.  Hearing his voice, whose accent and inflection so closely mirrors the voices of other family members I knew and loved and mourned their passing years ago.  Watching him give my mom, his cousin, a big hug as we said goodbye.  Wondering when we would pass that way again.

All of that made the detour into Little Cove well worth it.  And that was only the beginning...