Over the river and through the wood? Some of my childhood Thanksgivings were certainly over the river if they weren't actually through the wood. The road to T'giving dinner went west from Ames, Iowa to Walthill, Nebraska. The river crossing was between Onawa, Iowa and Decatur, Nebraska.
Thanksgiving excitement would start with piling into the family station wagon. The goal was Grandma and Grandpa Kilzer's farm. The four hour drive went through rural towns with names like Boone, Carroll and Dennison. My favorite town was Soldier. Each town had its name on the watertower. Most towns also had a grain elevator. By the time we reached Onawa, we were primed for bridge spotting. All of us kids wanted to be the first to see the shiny, erector-set-like bridge that would take us from Iowa to Nebraska. Seems like we'd drive through Macy in the dark and finally arrive at The Farm kind of late. I know we had a good time. I know we ate lots of mashed potatoes.
Thanksgiving for my children has meant driving from Reston to Springfield. The route has changed from Beltway to Fairfax County Parkway. The destination has been my cousin's house. The towns are named Herndon, Fairfax and Burke. They're marked by exit signs instead of watertowers. Nobody knows what a grain elevator is! We began the tradition with the K....y family having teen-agers and the F....s family having little kids who shared a piano bench at the dinner table. Then the K....y kids went away to college, married, had their own kids and needed to rotate attendance at the holiday meal with their in-laws. And now, the F....s kids are juggling college and in-laws.
Soon we'll add a grandchild to the mix. Suppose the younger generation will fight over the piano bench seats?
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