Thanksgiving is not a holiday at all in Sweden. There is a Sunday on the church calender called "Thanksgiving" (tacksägelse), but there is no feast connected with it. Christmas is the big food-holiday here. The warmer weather and lack of snow have made it difficult for me to believe that it is soon First of Advent. Today is Thanksgiving Day, even if no one else around me is giving it any thought.
I have fond childhood memories of my mother's turkey, dressing, gravy, cranberry sauce, sweet potatos, corn-on-the-cobb, and last, but not least, pumpkin pie. Mother learned how to cook in Sweden. But after moving to America, she must have taught herself how to make a Thanksgiving dinner from reading cookbooks or asking neighbour-ladies or her mother-in-law, my grandmother. After I grew up and left home, I have been a party to fewer homemade turkey-dinners with the whole extended family.
One of the last times was in 2004, when Elisabet was only about six months old. My brother and sister-in-law hosted this November-family-gathering. We took turns around the table, saying what we were thankful for, during the past year. I don't remember what anyone said other than my father: He was grateful to have such a wonderful wife, to whom he owed his health and well-being.
Thanksgiving Blessings to All!
Anna
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