The evening meal, in my house, was supper.
Dinner was the Sunday mid-day meal,
Or a special meal, like Thanksgiving.
Thanksgiving dinner in my mother’s family, the Lanes,
Was an extravaganza, one of two family gatherings,
The other being the Fourth of July.
In the early fifties, after my father’s untimely death,
We returned to Colorado from Coleridge, Nebraska,
And received a 1936 Buick Victoria, which had belonged to my great aunt Alice McAnelly,
And given to us because we had no vehicles.
My father owned three vehicles, a jeep, a Modle A Ford and a Chrysler, but as he left no will they were sold off and mone was put in trust for the children.
Mother called the car Vickie.
We had to stop half way to Lakewood on the way to Thanksgiving Dinner to refill the radiator after it overheated and blew off steam.
(Later, I had an accident when driving it age 15 and drove through a stop sign.
Vickie had trouble with her transmission as her sisters had, so that was the end of her.)
But I digress (a trait of my vascular dementia, I get distracted)
Thanksgiving Dinner was at my Uncle Emmet’s house,
Though we were sleeping elsewhere usually, at Uncle Clark’s or Uncle Howard’s.
All three of my mother’s brothers lived in Lakewood, CO.
The big excitement of the dinner, the Thanksgiving gathering,
Was the candy centerpiece Emmet and his family made,
Which was usually hidden under a dish towel till time to reveal it.
I remember chocolate log cabins made from Tootsie Rolls,
White divinity snow, marshmallow rice crispie footballs and more.
Not all of these were made on the same centerpiece but occurred on other Thanksgivings.
One year, upon the reveal, we were told the candy centerpiece was a “Kosdoon.”
We didn’t know what a Kosdoon was and conjectured that it was some kind of rectangular mine shaft?
Later the family admitted that it was supposed to be a windmill,
But it had fallen over! They made up the name Kosdoon to cover for the accident.
My grandfather, Albert Lane, sat at the head of the table, and carved the turkey,
After honing the carving knife with a steel that matched it in the handle.
Mashed potatoes, gravy, stuffing, cranberry sauce, jello, carrots and celery, and more,
Ending with pumpkin pie.
(I subsequently attempted to make a candy centerpiece when I moved to Portland and was invited to my Aunt Margaret’s in Kent, Washington, but I was unable to make anything remotely similar to the great Emmet Lane masterpiece.)
Dinner to me means family.
Dinner means sitting down to the same big table with a beautiful table cloth, and a kid’s table nearby.
Dinner means food and tradition and family.
Dinner is more ceremonious than supper.
Let’s have dinner, OK?