A Thanksgiving to Remember

Ruby Jean Pitts
44 Lindon St.
Anniston, Alabama
30 Nov. 1944

Dear Aunt Maydale:

You know that Buddy came home last week. We all wanted to give him a wonderful Thanksgiving. We'd been saving coupons forever, stashing them in the Mammy cookie jar. Soon as we got word that he was coming home we put on our hats and gloves and rode the streetcar to the butcher shop. We gave him our coupons and came out with the finest piece of beef this side of Texas.
Oh, Auntie, it was beautiful, don't know when I've seen a piece of beef that looked so good, our mouths were watering all the way home. We put it in the icebox and then all day yesterday we picked roashineers and everything else the V garden holds, though that wasn't much considering the time of year, but it's been a late winter and still pretty enough, so there were a few things out there.
We got onions and potatoes from the cellar and then we went into the pantry and pulled out canned apples for making fried pies, Auntie you know how you go on about my fried pies. And there was tomatoes, okra, beets, watermelon pickles, snap beans, everything we could find that we know Buddy likes.
We let Buddy sleep late, Lord knows the boy looks like he could use more than one good night. You should have seen us tiptoeing around the house trying to be quiet but getting a fit of the giggles at just about everything. Anyway, we started cooking long about sunup, I'd started some bread raising yesterday and the kitchen smelled so good. We were talking about other Thanksgivings. Even though I'm thirteen now I can't remember much from before this war. Seems like we've always been at war.
Speaking of which, it took our last coupon to buy butter. We had decided we wanted real butter for the bread, but it took a while to find some. Every place we tried somebody would ask if we didn't know there's a war on, but it didn't stop us and finally we found some. You should have seen us on our way home, we took off our shoes down at the bottom of the hill and walked barefoot carrying our treasures. I don't think I've ever enjoyed a trip to town and back as much as that one. But then today when we brought out the butter and set it on the table Grandma said if we'd kept the churn we wouldn't have had to buy it.
She's right, but nobody knows where the churn got to, we haven't used it in years, I think it must be the same place as the lemonade crock, wherever that is. Anyway, she went off into the parlor mumbling about never missing something until you need it. But there was no help for it, so we kept on a cooking.
We put the beef in the blue-speckled pan you gave us for Christmas last year and added potatoes and carrots and onions around it, put the cover on and set it in the oven. All morning the smells of cooking were driving us crazy with hunger, but we didn't eat, we wanted to save ourselves for the big meal. Although I think Miralyn must have snuck some of the cornbread, but she's little so we didn't say anything to her.
Long about one o'clock the roast was ready and everything else was ready. Buddy was up by then. We made him and the rest of the fellers go into the yard. Raymond came over, too, you know how he idealizes Buddy. They were sitting out there smoking and spitting and telling stories. I wished I could have been out there with them, but there were things to do still, so I got the big platter down from the top cupboard. When I pulled the roast out of the oven and took off the cover the cloud of steam that came out smelled so good I almost fainted!
It looked so pretty, the potatoes just going brown and the carrots cooked but not soggy, the onions you could almost see through.
Martha put the best linen on the dining table and borrowed a couple of chairs from Mrs. King down the hill. It took four trips to get everything on the table. By the time we finished it looked like we'd cooked enough to feed Coxie's Army. When it was all set, we took off our aprons and marched outside.
The boys joked about not being hungry. Buddy even said he'd wait until we fed the babies, but we knew he was just putting on Sunday manners, and we finally persuaded them it was time to eat. Daddy said we'd say grace in the yard, since there was more room. So we all got in a circle and held hands and Daddy prayed one of the most beautiful prayers I've ever heard. He thanked God, first for Buddy being home safe and sound, and then for everything else he could think of, from the sky overhead to the fertile soil under our feet. Then we all sang Blessed Assurance, Jesus Is Mine. We girls were teary, and it was so wonderful.
We all hugged each other and then went into the house, laughing and joking, the boys jostling each other for position. Everybody stopped short, though, at the door to the dining room. I thought they were admiring the candles and flowers and food, but I was hungry so I pushed past them and you wouldn't believe what I saw.
Old Blue was sprawled out asleep under the table, and if a dog could wear a smile, he had one. The roast, our beautiful roast beef, was gone. I'll give you three guesses where it went and the first two don't count. I yelled at that dog, called him every dirty word I'd ever heard and I think I even invented a few. He skedaddled out of there right quick. We all stood there staring, absolutely speechless. Daddy kept clearing his throat, like something was stuck way down inside.
And then Buddy started laughing. He laughed until the tears rolled down his face. Then Daddy started laughing, too. Grace laughed so hard she had to sit down.
I said I failed to see the humor in the situation. Buddy said you couldn't blame a dog for being what he was. He said some boys in Europe reminded him a lot of that dog. Grandma said we might as well eat what was there. So we did.
The potatoes were passable and the bread good and the butter was wonderful. I guess on the whole the meal was a success. An hour later we were all still sitting around the table laughing and talking. And then Daddy said we should pray again. So we all stood up and got real close to each other and he thanked God again for the day and the food and our dear Buddy being home.
Auntie, I guess the secret of this day was not the roast we didn't have, or the food we did, but that we are all together again.
Someday I'm gonna laugh about this, but not today. And I'm gonna kill that dog if he ever comes out from under the house.

Lovingly,

Your Ruby Jean