Family Meal Time

I know its not Thanksgiving yet, but the poem below speaks to me about holding dear to something we are loosing sight of in this modern, rushed world of ours...family meals. A time when everyone gets together at the table sharing family stories from one generation to another. A time when bonds are made stronger and laughter just rings out. A time when the lines seemed blurred between who is an in-law and who is not. A time when little hearts grow fond of family ties and feel the loving hearts of grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. A time where the day is discussed and problems and joys alike shared. Family meals provide so much more than food to eat.

The Old-Fashioned Thanksgiving

~Edgar Guest~
It may be I am getting old and like too much to dwell

Upon the days of bygone years, the days I loved so well;

But thinking of them now I wish somehow that I could know

A simple old Thanksgiving Day, like those of long ago,

When all the family gathered round a table richly spread,

With little Jamie at the foot and grandpa at the head,

The youngest of us all to greet the oldest with a smile,

With mother running in and out and laughing all the while.
It may be I'm old-fashioned, but it seems to me to-day

We're too much bent on having fun to take the time to pray;

Each little family grows up with fashions of its own;

It lives within a world itself and wants to be alone.

It has its special pleasures, its circle, too, of friends;

There are no get-together days; each one his journey wends,

Pursuing what he likes the best in his particular way,

Letting the others do the same upon Thanksgiving Day.
I like the olden way the best, when relatives were glad

To meet the way they used to do when I was but a lad;

The old home was a rendezvous for all our kith and kin,

And whether living far or near they all came trooping in

With shouts of "Hello, daddy!" as they fairly stormed the place

And made a rush for mother, who would stop to wipe her face

Upon her gingham apron before she kissed them all,

Hugging them proudly to her breast, the grownups and the small.
Then laughter rang throughout the home, and, Oh, the jokes they told;

From Boston, Frank brought new ones, but father sprang the old;

All afternoon we chatted, telling what we hoped to do,

The struggles we were making and the hardships we'd gone through;

We gathered round the fireside.

How fast the hours would fly--

It seemed before we'd settled down 'twas time to say good-bye.

Those were the glad Thanksgivings, the old-time families knew

When relatives could still be friends and every heart was true.

Trying to get 4 little ones to smile or be still at the same time is quite a chore ! But a delightful chore to be certain. This was taken after supper last night