This is the time of year that is big time family and food time. When November rolls around something happens to me. My thoughts seem to take me back in time when my mom, dad, aunts, uncles and cousins were still with me. The memories start flowing. The smallest details and the funny happenings are recalled. I can’t stop them and I don’t think I would if I could.

As an only child in the ‘40s and ‘50s, the times when we would get together with family were so special.

My memory of my mother making lists of things to do and foods to buy is as clear today as it was those many years ago, starting the first week of November. My dad, armed with Mom’s list, would stop by our local Safeway store in Fort Worth on his way home from work. Sometimes he would wait until he got home, change clothes and ask if I wanted to go to the store with him. I would be in the car before he finished the sentence. He would buy the items on the list and arrive home loaded down with bags of groceries.

Dad was a good shopper, and I learned some of my shopping skills from him. After he bought everything on Mom’s list he would allow me to buy a comic book or, after I entered my teens, a Photoplay or Modern Screen magazine. Mother didn’t always know about that. That was our little secret.

I remember the anticipation and excitement of seeing the relatives drive up. Sometimes we would go to the farm, other times over to north Fort Worth to my aunt and uncle’s home. I especially remember when it would be our turn to host the dinner. Uncle Shine and Uncle Cullen would start unloading the cars, and the cousins and I would take off for the back yard if it was warm enough. If not, there was always the den. Oh, those memories are so precious.

I still try to remember all the different aromas of Thanksgiving. I remember the tart smell of the cranberry relish cooking on the stove. It would be hard not to include the aroma of the dressing as it baked in the oven. The black pepper and sage in the dressing could make your mouth water. Any cooking skills I have were from watching my mother standing in the kitchen measuring, stirring, tasting and cooking so many family favorites. The memory of seeing Mother in her kitchen with a smile on her lips when her dish turned out like she wanted it to can bring tears to my eyes.

I can also remember my dad and the two uncles kidding around and teasing Mother, Auntie and Aunt Neva. They knew to stay out of the kitchen, though. That was women’s territory.

We had a long counter in the den where the food would be lined up. The row of food started with the turkey and big pan of dressing and ended with the desserts. Mother was always the last one to fill her plate. She was afraid of running out of food, but of course, that never happened. I am like my mother in that way when we have a large group, I worry about running out of something. There we all are, sitting at the long table with smiles on our faces and talking all at once.

At that stage of my life I never imagined there would be a time when they would be gone. One by one they left me, but I still have my memories of them. Some of them lived to a ripe old age, but some of them didn’t. June, my cousin who was six months younger than me, fought breast cancer, but she lost her battle. Now there are only two cousin and me. John in Comanche, Claudia in Tucson and me here in Weatherford.

I remember Mother, Auntie and Aunt Neva cleaning up after the dinner was over. I used to feel sorry for them until one day I stopped to listen to them talking and realized they didn’t mind the clean up at all. It gave them a chance to talk, and boy could they talk. These three women had memories that surprised me. I think they remembered things that happened while they were still in the womb. Their time was spent laughing and remembering antics when they were young while they washed and dried dishes. This was before dishwashers were the norm for kitchens. I think having a dishwasher would have interfered in their heart-to-heart talks.

Listening to some of those conversations, I found out some “things” about some of my relatives I wasn’t supposed to. After overhearing some spicy tidbits, the cousins and I would discuss them. But, we knew not to talk “out of the family” about anything.

Now, this Thanksgiving is just around the corner and I am making lists and doing some of the same things my mother did. Come Thanksgiving, my two girls will assist me in the kitchen and we’ll be talking about the grandkids.

Jim and I sat down last week and went over the list to assure I had all the items written down. He is a savvy shopper and seems to enjoy it. He does as much visiting as he does shopping.

While he was at the store, I found this old favorite. This pie is easy but good.



Pink lemonade pie

1 (9-ounce) tub of Cool Whip

1 (6-ounce) can frozen pink lemonade, thawed slightly (you can use regular frozen lemonade)

1 (6-ounce) can Eagle Brand condensed milk

Whip at high speed until thick in large bowl. Pour mixture into cooked pie shell. Sprinkle with pecans if desired. Refrigerate three or more hours before serving.



Don’t let the name “buttermilk” pie keep you from making this pie. It is delicious.



Buttermilk pie

1-1/2 cups sugar

1/2 cup butter, softened

4 tablespoons flour - heaped

3 large eggs - beaten

1 cup buttermilk

1 teaspoon vanilla extract or 1 teaspoon lemon extract

Mix sugar and flour in bowl. Add butter and cream together while adding eggs. Mix well, add buttermilk and extract. Pour into unbaked pie shell. Bake at 350 degrees for 45-50 minutes or until knife inserted in middle comes out clean.



Jim went shopping this last weekend and came in with sacks and sacks of groceries. He had a big grin on his face when he stepped aside to show me one item he had purchased. It was a turkey. It was a huge turkey. I asked him what it weighed. He said it was a tad over 25 pounds.

Twenty-five pounds! It had a broad breast and legs like an ostrich. I asked him why in the world he would buy such a large bird. His answer — “Well, it was on sale!”

This morning we wrestled it out of the freezer to see if it would fit into my roaster. No, it didn’t. Would it fit into either of my two ovens? Nope, it was so big the broad breast rubbed the top of the oven.

Jim suggested he take it out to the garage and use his table saw to take the legs off and trim a little off the top of the breast. We’ll have enough turkey to last until Christmas!

I’m glad I didn’t ask for a ham!

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Janis may be reached at jks4417@aol.com, unless she is busy trying to find something to cook that turkey in!