The holidays prove that everything changes and nothing stays the same, and the generations of my family are no exception. The children who used to have few cares in the world are becoming the heads of young families, with different dreams and aspirations of their own.
Every Thanksgiving, all my aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents would come together to enjoy the festivities. The women would arrive early to help with the cooking and get the large dining room table ready for the feast. But the dining room table was not the only one readied. There also was an old card table for the children who were not quite old enough to sit at the main table.
Soon the day would arrive when the older children were asked to join the adults at the main table. This was a sad and happy time because it was a sign of growing up. My first year at the main table, I noticed that the children’s table did not have a vacant seat left after I joined the main table. A newer and younger member took it up. It seems that some aunt and uncle started to bring their new baby to the festivities because it was simply their time to come.
The years passed, and more of my cousins and nephews joined the main table, with new arrivals filling their seats at the card table. I noticed older family members started to leave their spots at the main table. In the beginning, it was said they were a bit too old or sick. Soon it was said they passed away to a place called “better.” I always felt sad because I would miss their stories about the lives they led.
More years passed, and I noticed more people leaving the festivities. Some didn’t leave because of sickness or death; they left because they found a wife or a husband, and they decided to have their own Thanksgiving at their new home or at the home of their new families. I also noticed the small card table in the kitchen disappeared at this time.
I soon left with my new wife and joined her family for the Thanksgiving festivities. It seems the men of the family were the first to leave because they usually joined their new wives and their families. The women of the family stayed and brought someone new into their family. I don’t know why this is the case, but like the inevitability of winter in New England it simply is.
My new family had similar traditions like the family I just left. There was a large dining room table and a smaller table in the kitchen for the children. Time passed, and I observed the evolution that took place at the holiday table. Where, for years, the grandparents sat and were listened to with interest and admiration because of their years, their seats began to empty. The children would take the place of those who left for other families or took the chairs of family members who rose in stature because of their age.
This year, I find myself sitting near the head of the table. My older brothers-in-law and wives now hold the right to be where they have people listening to their stories about the lives they have lived. The children’s table is filled with young boys and girls who are the children of those with whom I grew up and those who have accepted me into their family. I look to my right and see these same people sitting precariously close to the head of the table. I guess I’m close to taking the seat at the end of the Thanksgiving table. I will soon be the focal point, with stories of how I survived to become as old as I am.
Jim Fabiano is a retired teacher and writer living in York.