Giving Thanks

      On Thanksgiving my Mom would be up early, at work in the kitchen wearing a scarf because--Heaven forbid the unthinkable--a hair might get in the food!  She chopped the celery and onions for the dressing the night before.  Baked pies ahead.

       For the turkey she had to pull out some of the last of the feather quills that were still in the skin, and maybe take a lit match to the last little bits of feathers or hairs because butchers were less particular then.  Our turkey always came from Grandpa Evans, an accountant at Phillips Poultry. He would drive over from Westwood with it a day or two ahead, then he and Grandma Rachel and Emmy would come for dinner, sometimes Aunt Mary and Uncle Bill, too. 

     We would help in the kitchen, arranging the individual salads or putting the pickles and olives in the glass dish.

The kitchen sink on Hart St., where we took our turns doing dishes.