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As Thanksgiving approaches, many stories of holiday memories
spent with grandparents and cousins, and extended family
members have crossed my eyes. A little part of me sighs with
longing, because I never spent one Thanksgiving with my
grandparents. However, I always feel their presence in the
traditions that were passed on to me.
Norwegian immigrants came to Minnesota many years ago, and
my mother was born to Emma and Helmer Wentzel. She was one
of six kids, born in a log cabin, back in the early 1900's.
Mom married my father. They lived on a farm for a few years,
then moved to the coast to raise their family. Therefore, I
was born and raised in California.
It would have been easy for Mom to let the traditions of her
childhood die away, with all the modernization of their new
life. However, as a little girl, I remember her canning
peaches from our backyard tree, making homemade goodies, and
singing songs. On Thanksgiving Day, we would have the
greatest treat of all; FLATBREAD! This round cracker
concoction was like a crunchy tortilla, 'bout the size of a
large burrito. Made with just flour, salt, lard and water,
it was a bread substitute in the old days when my ancestors
had very little money. Now, what would be so special about
that, and what would you do with it? Well, there is nothing
like mashed potatoes and gravy scooped on top of a piece of
buttered flatbread, with its unique taste, to make the
holiday meal complete.
When I married a Mark, my Frenchman didn't have much use for
"flatbread," but I was intent on taking the 5 hours each
November to prepare a stack of it anyway. I'd roll out each
one, patting it with the back of a fork before heating it on
the same pans my mom used. As my children came along, they
grew to know it as a staple on our Thanksgiving table. Oh,
surely, the meal would be fine without it, but it is
included not because it is necessary, but because it is
nostalgic. Sometimes, when we'd share our Thanksgiving meal
with my sister in law's Italian family, rolls were always
more of a preference. Yet, as the years have moved on, and
Thanksgiving approaches, do you know what everybody
requests? Ginger's Norwegian Flatbread! Yesireee! The nieces
and nephews, and aunts and uncles, now, all expect the
floury stack of tradition to grace our table each year.
My mom died when I was 16 and my dad, when I was 19.
Therefore, it would've been easy for me to forget what I was
brought up with, but I have chosen to keep tradition alive,
for the sake of my children and their children to come.
Whether it's the songs that we sing, or the foods prepared;
our heritage lives on. It breathes in the little things we
do -
- the extra effort we make to ensure that those that went
before us are honored in our hearts, our lives, and our
memories.
I am grateful for a mother who brought homemade traditions
into my young life, and I pray that when I am gone, my
children will carry on what began so long ago, by people who
they have not known, but by whom their heritage has surely
grown.
May each of you have a blessed holiday filled with thanks
giving for the many things your ancestors have instilled in
you, and may your table be filled with traditions and love.
?© 2003 by Ginger Boda
Rhymerbabe @ aol.com
Ginger is an award winning author for Starfish, and
contributor to various online publications. Weaving faith,
traditions and humor into her stories and poetry, she writes
from the heart. One of her stories, The Ring of Love will be
featured in the book entitled Chicken Soup For The Bride's
Soul, which will be released in January 2004. Many of her
writings are
featured in the archives for Starfish and Sand Dollar.
Ginger resides in Southern California with her husband Mark,
of 27 years and three grown children; Jason, 25, Danny, 22
and Alisha, 19.
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Blessings to you today
Bob Johnston
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