Homebodies - The tales at the table
- Details
- Published on Monday, October 15, 2018
By Rita Friesen
Neepawa Banner & Press
Thanksgiving weekend was busy. Lovely and busy. Family came from afar; Slave Lake, Saskatoon, Pense, Brandon and Boissevain. Four generations at the supper table. Toys were hauled out, the decibel level soared and stories were retold.
To be fair, there were some stories I had not heard before. I knew most of them: the go cart escapades, the garden tractor - caught in the swing, climbing the power pole anchor, and riding down a sapling- (different child for each of those adventures), the treasure hunts, the year the young girls ‘borrowed’ grain from a bin to create a carpet for their fort. The stories brought gales of laughter and demands for more details. The time the oldest grandchild commandeered them all to help clean house, the grumblers getting the dirtiest tasks. Same leader that created story lines that needed to be enacted, complete with costumes designed by the same individual. Wonderful tales that enriched their childhood and filled their memory bank.
Several photo albums surfaced and holidays were remembered. Canmore, Spruce Woods, Blue Lake, Drumheller as destination camping and local weekend holidays as well. Someone making circus clown songs while we piled out of the van – not always the regulatory one person per seat belt rule was enforced. The stories would not be complete without retelling of the time we forgot a wee lass at Dairy Queen, in Vegreville, on our way from Slave Lake. (I was driving, thought we had an accurate head count, only to discover the one with a cast on her arm was missing!) Quick u-turn on a divided highway to find the six year old muttering, ‘I have a stupid family, a stupid, stupid family.’ I want to think she has forgiven us, and carefully headcounts her crew each and every time!
The stories bind the generations together. My daughter heard tales of her nieces and nephew that she had never heard and in return, told tales on them that we had never heard. The laughter was therapeutic. Most of us live with stress, from within and without. To laugh riotously in a safe place is freeing. To laugh with and never fear being laughed at is freeing.
Food. Old favourites- farmer sausage and perogies with real cream gravy, home made buns and apple crisp one evening, and farm chicken, mashed potatoes, garden carrots and home made pies the next evening. The stories about the foods we eat, the early attempts and learned skills. The table laden with goodness. Deepest thanks for the abundance. Blessings on the dish washer! Later, the table became a gaming center. Board games and card games. I stuck to what I know. I lost one game of cribbage- got skunked!- and then made a decent showing in the second one.
Families come in all shapes and sizes. My families brought their families, so, indeed, we had six dogs and a cat as well as the 14 people. And it all went well. It was never tails at the table.
