by Judith Kniffen

Thanksgiving was always celebrated with Aunt Dorothy’s family, Dorothy being my father’s younger sister. She and John had two girls close in age to my two brothers. So while food was in preparation, we youngsters were swept outdoors to defray our energy, weather notwithstanding. By the time we dragged ourselves up the front steps and indoors, we were exhausted, with most of our giggling spent as well. We dutifully draped our coats, gloves and hats over the chosen piece of furniture, and washed our hands—sometimes our faces as well.  And then quietly we sat down, spaced strategically among the adults.

It was time to sing “We Gather Together,”  followed by “The Eyes of All,” the latter an Episcopalian chant.  We launched into the chant with all due solemnity:

The Eyes of All…wait upon thee, Oh Lord,

And Thou gives them their meat in due season,

Thou openest thine hand,

And fillest all things living…with PLENTY OF SNESS! (oops, that’s “plenteousness”)

Glory be to…etc.,

…by then we were banging our hands on the table and shrieking with laughter, while the adults patiently waited us out to finish the chant. You might well ask: Why did the adults put up with this year after year? I think because it brought us children into the Thanksgiving conversation on our own terms and made for a much richer sharing during dinner.  At least we kids thought so.