SPECIAL GIFTS
Three Tales of Holiday Merriment and Memories
A Taste of Change
Once, Thanksgiving was simple. Wake up, set the tables, then wait for everyone while inhaling aromas from Mom’s kitchen. Chopped liver. Stuffing. Turkey!
Over time, the festivities got smaller. The aromas remained, however, as did the memories that got my cousin to prod my mother to make one more feast.
Mom was willing, though I tried to dissuade her. Slower and weaker as she’d become, we agreed I’d do more than set up. I would learn her recipes.
Man though I am, I enjoy cooking. Yet, I felt like an interloper in Mom’s kitchen, grinding the liver and onions, following her instructions on how much of this and that to mix into the stuffing, adding the secret ingredient to the sweet potato pie and modifying my liberal seasoning hand when it came to prepping the bird.
Some said it tasted “different,” but the transition was a success. And though the festivities now are in my house, the aromas of my youth bring me to where the holidays always had a home.
—Marc L., Roslyn, NY
Songs My Mother Never Taught Me
We always have my mom to our house for high holidays and Thanksgiving, but for Chanukah she stays put at the Rogerson House in Jamaica Plains, where she lives. The cook there prepares latkes (potato pancakes) and other holiday foods, and a woman rabbi comes in to lead simple services. It’s very enjoyable, so we join her there.
Last year, when the rabbi asked if anyone knew certain songs in Yiddish, my mom piped right up. Even with her Alzheimer’s, she can sing entire songs, many I’ve never before heard or even thought she knew. And she sings them right on through, no mistakes.
The power of music is amazing and she exhibits such joy during these times that I see my mother as she truly used to be.
—Mel G., Cambridge, MA
Gathering ‘Round the Baby Grand
To encourage my mother to play the piano again, I presented her with a book of Christmas carols shortly after Thanksgiving. Then I asked my brother John, who plays guitar, to practice with her to prepare some carols all of us could sing on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Mother became fully engaged and soon her long, slender fingers were finding the keys easily again. Listening to John tune the guitar to the piano was a bit exasperating at times (sorry, John), but they really had fun preparing for our songfest and went at it in earnest.
When it was time to gather around the piano, I swear we laughed more than we sang. There are several of us who can’t sing very well, and every time one of us hit a sour note (unfortunately, usually with great gusto) or sang off key, my mother’s shoulders started shaking with laughter. Tears ran down her cheeks she was laughing so hard. It had been a long time since I’d seen her just let loose…and, as we all said afterwards, it’s the idea that counts.
—Anne P., Darien, CT