Spanish views from a small town

Today is Thanksgiving in the United States. If I had still been living there, I would have had a turkey on the table, most likely. As it is, today I'm making a stew for lunch because it's a cool, grey day, and it's a work day. The meaning of the day has held up pretty much in a world where the meaning of Christmas is lost to most. In fact, in the U.S., its meaning has been moved to Thanksgiving. This holiday has become one of family reunions, get-togethers, and appreciating the good things we have and share. Today, Americans give thanks for the love in their lives. I give thanks for many things. For my husband, for my daughter. For family, near and far that share my genes and family quirks, and that are simply there. For love that folds over me like a warm blanket. For friends and acquaintances, old and new. For my house, however decrepit it may be, and for the car that takes me places. For the food that gives me strength. For a regular income, however small and insufficien...

Thinking about what to make for lunch, for some reason, the stuffing my mother used to make for our turkey popped into mind.  My father was given a turkey for Thanksgiving, and another at Christmas, at the first company he worked at in Boston. He found a job there in 1964, when he was illegally in the U.S., and then he was re-hired when we moved there, legally, in 1969. He worked for that family-owned construction company until it closed, in the 1980's.  The turkey was always enormous, enough to feed a family of ten. We were only three people, and there was always turkey in the fridge for at least a week. The good parts, the legs and the wings, quickly disappeared. The breast and the back would linger, strings of meat pulled off in an idle moment of "what's there to chew on?" The neck, my favorite, somehow, also disappeared quickly, as would the giblets. What barely made it into the fridge was the stuffing. My mother, when first presented with the conundrum of roastin...

Today is Thanksgiving Day in the United States, and a regular workday in Spain. Today, as I walked around on errands, I saw many "Black Friday" sales signs. Of course, instead of exporting the idea of a day set aside for giving thanks, they exported a day in which to clean our pockets and honor consumerism. Such is worldly nature. I remember Thanksgivings as a child when my father would receive from his employer (a small, family-owned construction firm) an enormous turkey just for the three of us. My mother would bake it in the oven, surrounded by potatoes, and stuffed with a stuffing she made up. Before putting the turkey into the oven, she would chop up potatoes and onions, mix them with ground beef, and cook them in the frying pan. Then, she would stuff the turkey well with it, the extra overflowing onto the pan. There was no stinginess in her cooking.  We were never into the pies and dessert business, though. Nor into any vegetables cooked on the side. Our business wa...

The day for families to gather together and enjoy each other in Spain, is Christmas. To be home for Christmas Eve is what Spaniards all over the world dream of. It's the evening to gather together around the table and eat till we get heartburn. It's when grandparents expect grandchildren they haven't seen since summer or the year before. It's when all the supermarkets close early and people have to be routed out of the aisles with last minute forgotten items. It's when brothers living hundreds of kilometers apart get together and remember childhood battles. It's when businesses close early and bars fill in the afternoon with pre-revelry toasts to friendships. It's the day we give thanks for what and whom we have. But not in the United States. There, the day to get together is Thanksgiving. Yes, thank the Pilgrims. But thank the Pilgrims also for Christmas being in second place. Because the Pilgrims outlawed Christmas. They considered it a "popish...