The Table. Thanksgiving giving with Scary Mommy Nation

The table. More memories than I , personally, could ever recount happened here. This table has been in storage for over 25 years. It belonged to my Memaw for as long as I could remember.My mother got up when she passed away, but didn’t use it. It was taken apart and stored away under the bed.

I remember when we would come in from Virginia this table would be loaded with food, and the bar, and every available other open space. I cannot remember a single  meal that didn’t take up the majority of the space on this table. It sits in my kitchen now. The passing of my mother last year left this table without a home. We set it up this weekend, removing our old table that was too big and took up too much space to put this in it’s place. The first meal that came across it was one my Memaw would have made herself had she been  here. Fried Chicken, Home canned green beans and potatoes, biscuits and gravy. For my Memaw every meal was a celebration. I can see her in her apron and dress, her fingers crimping edges on pie crusts, before we bought them premade and crimped. Clean up from breakfast complete it was on to the next meal, with dinner being the big meal of the day. The one where iron skillets were filled and flour was covering every available surface, and person. I would watch in awe as she moved from the counter to the stove . Her hands covered with ingredients, rinsing them off in water so hot the steam rose from her skin as she raised her arm to wipe sweat from her forehead. Her silver white hair curling tighter the hotter she got, damp ringlets lining the collar of the dress she wore. What I wouldn’t give to have one more holiday with her cooking in my kitchen. I cannot imagine what she would do with all the space I have and the appliances to make it easier and quicker. But I am not so sure that it makes the food better. I think what made the food so amazing was the love that went into it. The labor that was involved in her giving us what she knew to give, food from her hands.

I have some of her recipe books, her small cursive across the pages. Detailed instructions of ingredients and the order to put them in . The only thing some of them are missing is a cook time, and in some cases a temperature. For her it was trial and error. She started cooking when the heat was changed by the size of the fire the stove contained. Need it hotter, add more wood, need it cooler, dump some coals out the bottom. When she got her first gas stove I am sure it was another round of trial and error for her. Learning that now it was as simple as turning a dial and instantly have heat to your wanted temperature. I am certain this is why there was never a temperature written down from the beginning.

Thanksgiving is fast approaching. Times they have changed, but the focus of them is the same. It is about giving to others the best you have to give. There are children who won’t have a Thanksgiving dinner, for many it will be whatever they have in the cabinets. Turkey and dressing a distant dream. The economy has wreaked havoc on families across the United States. Scary Mommy wants to change that. By getting her followers together to help out those less fortunate. I do not have it to give or I would. But I would open my doors to anyone who has nothing and they are welcome at my table. Because that is the way it was meant to be. My Memaw fed everyone, my mother did the same and as the grandchild and daughter of that lineage cooking for small groups is not in my blood. I wouldn’t even begin to know how. But I will do my best to make sure that everyone gets the chance however they can to make a difference in someone else’s life.  Trust me when you do this, it won’t matter what is on your table, it will be enough. Because when we open our hearts to another in need, we also gain for ourselves.

Click the button below and go to Scary Mommy’s page. Can’t donate, spread the word, share the posts, like them get them all over the internet. Let’s help do what this country is known for, only let’s do it in our own backyard. Which is really where charity is supposed to begin isn’t it??