When the 2024 presidential election was held on Nov. 5 there were only 50 more shopping days until Christmas.
In olden days the next big holiday would be the gathering of family and friends to enjoy the traditional Thanksgiving feast of food gluttony and a blessing to acknowledge the existence of a superior force that deserved at least one day a year of short or long prayers over the turkey, ham, chicken dumplings, pumpkin pie, etc.
Things are different this year!
While surfing through the multiple liberal and conservative news channels on the internet the remote happened to stop on the main on-line shopping venue and the glittery displays of Xmas tree twinkling lights and discount bargains that had omitted any reference to Turkey Day and the traditional accompanying reference to what the main message is supposed to be in America in November.
In a non-holiday paperback by Lewis Grizzard (LG) “When My Love Returns From the Ladies Room, Will I Be Too Old to Care?” (1987-Villard Books) the late humorist gives his serious version of the slighted Fourth Thursday in November event in an article “Thanks for the Memory”:
It was three years ago, or maybe it was two. Thanksgivings come and Thanksgivings go.
I overslept and missed the family gathering at my uncle's house out in the country.
Country folks like to eat early, and like I said, I over- slept.
B. A. called about one in the afternoon. He was down in Savannah, alone.
"Had lunch yet?" I asked him.
"I was just going to pick up a hamburger," he answered.
"No Thanksgiving feast?"
"No. I had some work to catch up on and couldn't get to Montgomery to my mother's. What are you doing?"
"No plans," I said.
"Catch a plane," B. A. said.
"The Hyatt bar is open even if nothing else is."
I was at the Savannah airport three hours later. We never made it to the Hyatt bar. We stopped instead at a little beer joint just outside the airport.
There were a couple of pool tables inside and young men wearing hats with the names of various heavy equipment companies sewn on them were playing. Cigarettes dangled from their mouths. They were silent and expressionless. One got the idea heavy stakes were involved.
A few old men sat around the bar drinking beer. A man and a woman worked behind the bar. There was a juke box playing country music.
‘Keep your mouth shut,’ my buddy said, ‘and we’ll probably be OK.’
‘Probably…’
We had a few beers and played a few tunes of our own. Nobody had spoken to us until a graybeard sitting a few stools down looked up from his can of beer and asked,
‘Y’all ain’t from around here, are you?’
We said we weren’t.
‘Y’all going to stay for supper?’ the man went on.
‘Stay for what?’ I asked.
‘Supper,’ he said. ‘We have it here every year on Thanksgiving. It’s mostly for the regulars who don’t have nowhere else to go, but I’m sure nobody would mind if y’all stayed.’
We didn’t say yes. But we didn’t say no, either.
A half hour later, the door to the joint opened and in walked five or six ladies bearing plates of food. Lots of food. They set up a table near the juke box. Turkey and dressing. A ham. Mashed potatoes and gravy. Green beans. Butterbeans. Creamed corn. Homemade rolls. There were also cakes and pies.
The customers put down their beers and pool sticks. They lined up plates in hand for the feast in front of them.
‘Y’all are more than welcome to eat,’ said the woman behind the bar. We got in line.
The food was wonderful. We went back twice.
‘You do this every year, huh?’ I asked one of the ladies that brought the food.
‘They’s lots of people that have nowheres to go on Thanksgiving,’ she said. ‘Some of ‘em come in here to drink cause it ain’t as lonely as staying home. We all live in the neighborhood and we just try to share what we got with others.’
We stayed until nine or ten. We tried to pay extra for the food, but nobody would take our money. Thanksgivings come and Thanksgivings go, and, occasionally, one comes along that is very special.”
(There is a reason for the Thanksgiving season, just like Christmas!)
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If you have additional information about one of Mr. Summers' articles or have suggestions or ideas about a future Chattanooga area historical piece, please contact him at jsummers@summersfirm.com)
Jerry Summers