Thanksgiving Momories

My mom made the best Thanksgiving dressing under the sun. Her turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes, and pumpkin pie were EVERYTHING.

 But the memory of Thanksgivings with mom wouldn't be complete without recalling her signature move at the dinner table, when she would declare:

"Boarding house reach!"

With this phrase, mom granted herself license to shove aside niceites in order to snag a roll or salt shaker that was beyond her grasp. As if my siblings and I were too slow or uncomprehending to be relied upon to pass it.

I didn't exactly find this custom endearing. I think I saw it as another way my mother liked to push herself out into the world, sometimes at the expense of us. And yet I do find it endearing that she would use this phrase, and it will likely grow more fond in memory, now that she's gone.

What I love about this phrase is the built-in suggestions that come with it: that we, my siblings and I, were acquainted with boarding houses and their loose table manners, and that my mom had had this colorful past of traveling and staying in them, and learning to elbow her way past drifters, ramblers and bounders to the gravy.

Well if anyone could elbow their way past a rough passel of strangers, it would be my mother! Thanks for all the great Thanksgivings, mom. Miss you.