Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! Today I’m remembering some of my family’s traditions from years ago.
The Gillis family lived in Miami, Florida for a while. I’ve seen photos from the late ’60s, when I was two and three years old, where family gathered with us for a Thanksgiving meal: my aunt and uncle, Florence and Charles “Mac” McSheehan (I called him Uncle Skeet when I was little, and later he went by Uncle Mac) and their daughter Aileen and Grandma Nellie (Nellie Bellezora Rees Gillis). This was my dad’s family (William Sturgeon Gillis, Jr.). Florence was his sister and Grandma Nellie was their mother.
The photos showed us at a long table with a turkey in the center. One year was at our house, one year was at their house. I was very young, so I guess that tradition probably preceded my arrival as well. I’ve noticed in some photos, my maternal grandmother (Eunice LaSenius Washburn) and maternal great uncle (Ruehl LaSenius) were with us as well.
When I was elementary school age, the Macs had moved to Jensen Beach, Florida. Our Thanksgiving tradition changed to focusing on a church gathering. My mom (Joy Eloise Washburn Gillis) and my dad would pin a notice on the church bulletin board, inviting any and all to come to our house for a Thanksgiving meal. Back then, no one thought twice about advertising an open invitation like that. I’m sure that wouldn’t happen today, as it wouldn’t seem safe.
My mom made the turkey and everyone brought a side dish. One man who didn’t like turkey always brought a baked ham. Our house was small, but we had card tables and chairs set up everywhere, including in the garage. This was Miami, so the November temperature was mild. Some folks probably sat outside as well.
The first year we did this, a man arrived that no one had met before. He seemed to enjoy his time there. At one point, he seemed to have disappeared, but his suit coat was still there, so we knew he hadn’t left. My mom found him sound asleep on my Grandma Eunice’s bed. She let him rest, figuring he needed it. Eventually, he woke up, put on his coat, said he appreciated the invite, and left. We never saw him again.
I loved those gatherings because there were many of us kids, and we all went across the street to play in the park. (Again, no one thought twice about doing things like that back in the day.) I remember one year in the late ’70s, when I was 10 or 11, we got every type of ball we could find, all shapes and sizes, and went to the newly built outdoor racquetball courts. We started tossing those balls, all at the same time, and trying to catch whichever one we could. There were probably 15 of us kids all piled into one racquetball court. That was hilarious and such a good time. I’ll always remember that.
We moved to Central Florida (Orlando area) when I started 7th grade, so our traditions changed again. Usually, Aunt Elwy Rousseau would come up to see us from West Palm Beach, bringing along her friend Adelaide, or we would go down to see them. My mom may have done a turkey once or twice, but eventually we figured out that going to a restaurant was easier and more enjoyable. There were a few restaurants open that served a Thanksgiving Day meal. So that became our new tradition.
One year at Thanksgiving, my parents had made plans for two families to join us and spend the day after Thanksgiving at Walt Disney World. These were families that had been friends of ours in Miami, we had all grown up in the same church, and one husband and wife worked at Eastern Airlines, just like my dad. Meanwhile, we had all moved from Miami to other parts of Florida, with one family in Davie, another in Jacksonville, and us in the Orlando area. They each had a daughter my age (15 years old), we had all kept in touch, and we visited each other once in a while. So, the plan was to gather for a Disney Thanksgiving weekend.
Sadly, earlier in the week, plans changed dramatically and tragically. My dad died suddenly, just as we were getting ready to go to a Thanksgiving concert at a local church. He died of a heart attack. He had a history of heart problems, had been hospitalized several times for heart attacks, and had open heart surgery three years before this. But he had been doing well, so this was a big shock and devastating for a 15-year-old. It literally took me decades to finally get past the trauma and find peace.
After that Thanksgiving shock, my mom knew it would be important for us to create a new Thanksgiving tradition, so we could find joy (her name was Joy!) and not feel so down every year. We chose a new spin on an old tradition. We drove to West Palm Beach to see my Aunt Elwy. My Uncle Ruehl would drive up from Miami. And we would all meet at a local restaurant that served an excellent Thanksgiving dinner.
I always looked forward to this time and had so much fun with my mom, great aunt, and great uncle. We continued the tradition even after I was in college (I would drive back to school early Saturday morning for the UF-FSU game, as I was a student at UF and didn’t want to miss the traditional Thanksgiving weekend game with our nearest and dearest rival). Those Thanksgivings in West Palm Beach are still some of my favorite memories of all time, and I was old enough to really appreciate our conversations and spending time together.
Whether you have an ongoing tradition or play each holiday by ear, I hope you will be blessed and enjoy your day today. If you have specific memories of Thanksgivings from your earlier years, I’m sure there’s a young person in your family who would enjoy hearing about those times. Maybe you can share some photos or at least some memories with them.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Exploring Generations 