Thanksgivings is a truly American experience that Hispanics will adopt living in the US because we enjoy any excuse for eating and drinking copious amounts of alcohol.
Outside the States, our big ass meal with all the relatives is Cena de Noche Buena or Christmas Eve supper. The location was already decided the last time we all got together and it usually involved the family that had the backyard/back porch space.
Yes,. Unless you were very rich and lived in a mansion with a dining hall capable of sitting a minimum of 24 guests, you were doomed to eat outside. You would have an assortment of folding tables, pine boards and even reclaimed room doors set aside in a dark corner of the property and only coming out for events like this.
And even though we are using the really crappy excuses for tables, the good white table clothes (any other color is a sin) plus the very good china and cutlery. Family is coming and you would not even think about Dixie products. You went all out because family was getting together.
And that brings us to the kids. There are three specific groups: Adults (22 and older or married younger), Teenagers (21 to 16) and Kids proper. The difference lays of course in the way people would flock together after the meal: Adults will get together and discuss adult things (usually involving coffee and hard liquors) while the Teenagers will help clear the table and then gather to doo teenager things like ogling cousin Maria Teresa who finally got rid of the braces and suddenly can fill a sweater quite nicely. And the kids? Well, they are the small feral creatures running around the house (In and out) and being screamed at for getting in trouble.
But when meal time came, we all sat together according to family and ability to reach and smack the wee ones upside the head (and all the adults were allowed in the smacking, not just your parents) so they would behave. Moms leaving the young ones with dangerous tools like forks and knives which could be used against smelly annoying cousin Ruben? Oh hell no! I did say feral for a reason. The Lord of the Flies was re-enacted every December 24th before and after the meal.
The meal was where everybody, including the kids could talk. Inevitable questions about school and girlfriends and where the moms would share with everybody some cute thing you did which is actually mortally embarrassing to you and know it will be held against you till next year. There was laughter, there was screaming, there was the occasional set of tears after being impact-re-educated with a serving spoon, but we all ate in the same “table.”
It was not till the main course was done that the kids were officially ignored and they would sneak out of the table to return to michief, only interrupted by the old tias and abuelas serving small pieces of cake and/or quesillo (flan) which kids ate fast and usually on the move.
Adults would wait for the small bodies to start dropping dead tired at different locations around the house to finally decided it was time to go home. More than likely, the teenagers had already left to have fun with their friends, but they were required to walk the gauntlet of hugging and kissing every single grandma present in the “cena” and be blessed by then before leaving. Here is when you got your first dosage of adulthood because at least one of the old biddies would hug you extra hard and plant a great kiss on your cheek while telling you she hoped to be alive next year to see you again… and you knew she meant it. And you hugged her back because suddenly you also knew you may not see her again and would hate yourself if the last memory you have of Tia Rosa was a hurried and dismissive goodbye.
Anyway, that is how we did it. So, in a way, this Thursday, be thankful for the people you have around you and be thankful for the memories of those who no longer will break bread with you and cherish the gathering.
I’m not sure where the “kid’s table” thing comes from. I’d never heard of it until I was an adult. Not sure if it’s a regional thing or what. My family are all deep South born and raised, and we all always ate together too.
I grew up Ashkenazi in New York. At big gatherings the kid’s table was overflow because the dining room table wasn’t big enough. It was sometimes separate and sometimes right next to the main table. I didn’t mind since cousins were more interesting than their parents.
This year we’re flipping the script. To ease their fears of CCP virus the grandparents get a separate table.
I grew up with the kids table. No family gathering was complete without it.
Grew up in suburban NY, and with the exception of Fathers day and July 4th eating outside was not an option. Instead, the folding card tables were set up, a lot of the time the guests brought one,and the kids ended up in the den, basement, or where ever.
But, not at the adult table. No sir. Kids table for us.
The rest of your description is pretty much spot on for my family gatherings. After the meal, a semi-controlled chaos reigned around the children. Sometimes an uncle or aunt (or worse, grandma) would have to impose a few seconds quiet.
A wonderful article, and even mildly reminiscent of a Jean Shepherd piece.
and the last portion rings so true.
since all of my own family had died, our holiday gatherings were always at my dear wife’s parents home. And so much of it was just as you describe, Yet within only a few years, my in laws died, my wife became ill and finally passed away, and there was no longer any ‘hub’ for gathering any remnants of family. On occasion now, my god-daughter and I may meet at a Waffle House or something for Thanksgiving or Christmas, and that seems fitting – two survivors at a small table, remembering things, and having coffee and a waffle. I say this not to sound melancholy, but to encourage others that if you have family, and get along with one another, then cherish those gatherings.
Happy Thanksgiving and God bless you all.
Grew up in the South. No kid’s table here either. And yes, running the gauntlet was a ‘tradition’… sigh
Well said Sir. Brought back memories.