Thanksgiving — the way it was in the ‘30s [from my novel]
The doorbell rang and she opened the door to be greeted by a quaint Baseball with little legs, and a lad dressed in baggy pants and a ragged cardigan; he wore a Brooklyn Dodger cap.
“Anything for Thanksgiving?” shrilled the Baseball through the stitched cutout mouth.
“Oh, my goodness, I have lots of things just waiting for the likes of you!” chirped the grandmother. “Though I cannot promise to fill that shopping bag almost as big as you, surely, I can fill the pocket of your friend’s baseball glove.”
“Shucks, it’s only a catcher’s mitt. The pocket isn’t too big,” fell a trail of disappointment from a pushed out lip of the Dodger.
The Baseball turned to her affiliate. “I told you to bring Ray’s Lou Gehrig glove!”
Mrs. Reynolds laughed and led them into the vestibule, pointing to the large bowl of goodies. “Now, don’t go overboard; save some for the neighborhood children. But I have special treats for you on the dining table. They dug into the bowl, then ran into the dining room. The grandmother straightened out the papers, placing them on the buffet.
The two children gasped at the array of cookies, cakes, and fruit. The Baseball “rolled” to the kitchen and returned with another shopping bag and presented it to her companion. “That glove will never do.”
“Sit down children while I get each of you nice, fresh egg nog that the milkman delivered this morning. But you mustn’t overdo it—you still have to leave room for your dinner, you know.” As she left for the kitchen, the Baseball “pitched” to the buffet and browsed through the student papers.
Afterwards they went across the street to the house of their friend, Janie. “We should’ve stopped here first, Sally,” the Dodger said. Staring into his new shopping bag, he added, “Look at all we got from your grandmother that Janie won’t get.”
Sally giggled. “Silly, we’re going back again with Janie!”
Sally was disappointed in seeing Janie appear at the door in a Sunday dress. “Janie, heavens, you can’t traipse around looking like that! Why, you are entirely lacking in spirit.”
“What have clothes to do with spirit! I can carry a shopping bag just as good in this,” Janie protested, while posing and gazing at Johnny, hoping he would like her new black velvet dress with green interlace and her long flaming hair cascading over the front of her sloping little shoulders.
“Oh, Janie, you know perfectly well what I mean—the costume must match the spirit of the day.”
“But I look stupid in one of my mother’s dresses!”
“Then we’ll have to get you into a man’s attire—they’re supposed to look floppy and sloppy.” Sally stepped inside. John sat on the steps eating gum-drops and shaking his head over the mystery of girls. Within fifteen minutes and about a half pound of candy from his shopping bag later, the girls appeared—Janie in a long, heavy red and black checkered shirt down to her ankles, with sleeves drawn around her neck like a scarf. Several buttons were open for her arms and hands. She wore a straw hat below her ears but tipped enough for her to keep it loosely above her eyes. Johnny laughed.
“Stop it, Johnny Patty, or I’ll go back inside!” Janie pierced.
“Yes, John, and so shall I if you don’t mind your manners,” Sally joined in.
“Aw, I didn’t mean anything, Janie—besides, you’re suppose’ to look funny. Look at me. I think you are very mean by not laughing at me. And what about Sally? — looking like a baseball?”
“Sally’s different! I don’t have her nerve.”
“That’s for sure. You wouldn’t wear the green and black one like I wanted you to,” she clacked and launched a glint of resentment. “It would have showed up the beautiful pigtails I made.”
“Oh, Sally, it was twice as big as this one!” she rebutted as they turned up the walk to the next house. Even though Johnny was oldest and towered over the girls, he trailed behind and remained on the lower step while the girls went up to greet the resident. When a woman answered already prepared with candies in her hand and responded, smiling and dropping Milky Ways in the girls’ bags, he rushed up with extended bag only after the woman beckoned to him.
At the last house of Janie’s side of the street, Sally insisted that Janie lead the way and ring the doorbell. “But I don’t even know them, Sally,” Janie whined.
“I didn’t know anybody either,” she reminded her, gently urging her toward the door.
With faltering steps, she went to the door and rang the bell briefly. “Ring it again and longer this time!” Sally ordered.
An old man came to the door. “Well, what have we here, pretty thing? You must be the tiniest lumberjack in all the world’s forests—and where’s your axe?”
Nervously Janie simply asked, “Anything for Thanksgiving?”
“Why, of course, step right in, child.”
“But…but what about my friends?” she sputtered, turning round to Sally who was preoccupied comparing the loot with Little Johnny.
“Oh, I’ll give you plenty for them too.”
Sally turned to Janie who was just setting foot inside and screamed, “Janie! Come back here!” Janie, bewildered, nevertheless, immediately descended the steps. Sally went half way up the walk to retrieve her and snapped to the old man coldly, “We must be getting home. Dinner is almost ready.” She turned and yanked Janie back to join Johnny.
While the three turned the corner to head for Sally and John’s block, Janie, perplexed, appealed, “I can’t ever understand you, Sally. You make me go to the door, then scream at me! You scared me.”
“Good that I did! Doesn’t your mother teach you anything?”
“Of course, she does! Just because she’s not as smart as yours, or your grandmother ’specially, doesn’t mean…and just what do you mean?” she flashed her brilliant eyes in ironic perplexity.
“Then I shouldn’t have to tell you if your mother did.”
“Tell me what?…Sally, you’re teasing me again!,” Janie whimpered.
“I am not.…It’s just that, well, John is with us.…Come, we have to make more rounds.” Sally quickened the pace and the others looked at each other in bewilderment and followed behind.
Copyright © 2005 Richard R. Kennedy All rights reserved. Revised: November 23, 2005.
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