Alice’s Restaurant Redux…

Thanksgiving is a time of well, thanksgiving.  At least that’s the purpose, a time to give thanks for everything you have, the people you love, and well, this year it has been just a bit harder to give thanks.  In fact, my wonderful incredible sister, came to my house for this Thanksgiving, bearing gifts in the form of matching T-shirts.

However, turns out, this was one of the best Thanksgivings I’ve ever had.  I’m not sure how I can even describe how all this feels, because last year, we knew it was most likely my husband’s last Thanksgiving, and he couldn’t eat without vomiting, and even though we all struggled valiantly to hold on to one more gathering as a family, it was pretty grim.

This year though, all of that is behind us.  My wonderful incredible sister, the one bearing T-shirts, came with her family to be a support, a friend, a comrade in crime, a drinking partner, and to help do the impossible.  This was a time of renewal, of new traditions.  My children cooked dinner.  We had steak on the grill, a fabulous sweet potato casserole from the Thanksgiving issue of Real Simple, and some frozen green beans from Trader Joe’s.  It was lovely, delicious, simple and the women got to kick back and have a drink and enjoy the day.

My daughter set the table, it looked lovely.

My son left for Target, to open the store for the pre-black Friday mob, and the rest of us went to the garage for an Alice’s Restaurant redux…

There was a Thanksgiving many many years ago. About 52 years ago I believe.  Arlo Guthrie is one of my all time heroes, I have heard him many times in concert, and I even had the privilege of hearing the 45th anniversary (I think) of Alice’s Restaurant at Carnegie Hall.  I know every part of it, from the 8 x 10’s to the circles and arrows, to the pile of garbage, to the group W bench with the father stabbers and other sorts.  It was a testament to dysfunctional government, a sign of the times, the Vietnam war draft, and a Thanksgiving where good friends helped out by cleaning out the church and got arrested just trying to find a place to dump the garbage.  If you are one of the very few who don’t know this story, curl up, it is 18 minutes long, and listen to something as relevant today as it was 52 years ago.  Thanks to a great friend on facebook, the actual newsclipping from the Berkshire Eagle surfaced!

Anyway, I digress…

My husband wasn’t the most organized person in the world.  Though he claimed to know where everything was, none of us did.  I hid a set of tools in my studio because I could never find a hammer, or screwdriver, or if I found the battery operated drills, I couldn’t find charged batteries.  You couldn’t walk in the second bay of the garage, and I was completely overwhelmed by the thought of ever seeing the floor again, finding lost tools, or ever having the ability to park a car in there.

And so it began.  By Thursday evening, we had much of the contents pulled out, and already had filled one car with a load for the dump.  First thing Friday morning, off I went, only to find the dump closed.  🙁

So we piled all the debris into the driveway, in the rain, and the actual trash we loaded into 20 contractor bags and put it out to the curb where the wonderful sanitation workers picked up the garbage at 5:30am Saturday.  When we woke up on Saturday, I cooked a great breakfast, alongside my son, he made the bacon and eggs, and I cut up fruit and made egg-nog French Toast.  The best.  Fortified, we headed back to the dump, and made six trips.

My brother in law, and my nephew each filled their own trucks and headed back to Maryland to donate the contents to a Boys and Girls club where my brother in law works.

Because my sister came and did the impossible, assisted by my children, her husband, and her son, I can now park in my garage, both cars…

And I can find tools.  Lots of tools.  I think I actually have more screwdrivers than Ace Hardware.  Eventually my children will take many of the tools when they move out, but for now, if I need a screwdriver, I actually can find one.

On Sunday, my children and I welcomed a new member of the family, Ranger, a two year old male Norwegian Elk Hound.  That’s him on the lower right, along with our princess Saphira, the 9 year old.  He is an energetic teenager, looking to get into trouble, but he is really sweet and fills the void somewhat that happened when our other dog died two months ago of pancreatic cancer.  This year has been full of losses, but this Thanksgiving was full of hope, of friendship, of renewal, of new traditions, and of course family.  There was no political drama, there was only respect.  There was light, and energy, and peace.  I will be truly grateful of a great memory of my first Thanksgiving without my husband and our beloved dog.

Speaking of new traditions, my daughter went to Maryland the weekend before Thanksgiving to see my mom.  Her health has been unsteady, and my daughter wanted to spend a little time with her, because well, this year has been full of losses and she is afraid my mom will become yet another one.  My mom loved to make fruitcake.  I know, I’m one of the rare people who actually like that bit of tradition, and my mom made a wicked 100 proof fruitcake.  She is now too old to continue that tradition, so she turned the recipe, the directions and the soaking tin over to my daughter, who hates fruitcake, but loves that she can continue the tradition.  So Brianna made a fruitcake Thanksgiving morning, and will marinate it in brandy over the next four weeks and then distribute it to everyone at Christmas.

And my own tradition, now a few years old, continues.  I started weaving dishtowels as holiday gifts and the response was terrific.  They are great for shower/wedding/birthday gifts as well.  But first I had to clear my larger 8 shaft loom.

So this happened…

Can I say how much in love I am with this fabric, that came about from the need to just sit and make my brain figure something out in the deepest part of my grief last summer.  I had four unrelated skeins of oddly dyed yarn, leftover from a dye day. I blogged about it here…

So now the fabric is off, and I get to do something cool with it, and then I warped up the loom with some pretty towels, using just what was hanging about in my stash.  A two pound cone of a white textured cotton, and a two pound cone of a flax  colored cotton.  I had some tiny leftover cones of Cotlin left from towels I did a number of years ago, and I’m adding a colored stripe at each end of the towel.  The design is from a book I found in my travels, 18 Towels on Four Warps by Carol Berry.  I bought it from Halcyon Yarn a couple of months ago so I know it is current.

And so, I’m really thankful for traditions, old and new ones, and for family who once again, did the impossible.  I’m thankful for my children, for the help and support they have been, and stepping up to the plate to make new traditions for all of us.  I’m grateful for the chance to get to know our new dog, and for simple things like a garage you can park in, and tools that are accessible.  And I’m really grateful that unlike that Thanksgiving long ago, that no one got arrested.  I was able to wait until the dump reopened on Saturday…

Stay tuned…