Thanksgiving

This past weekend was Thanksgiving, and I spent it with my dad's parents in Mechanicsburg, Pennsylvania, like I have almost every year that I can remember. (One year, we all went to my aunt and uncle's house instead. Other than that, I can't remember any exceptions.) It's a seven-hour drive to my grandparents' house, which is why we usually make the trip to see them just once a year. I wish we were closer, though. My grandmother- Grammy- nearly always hosts Thanksgiving, and for good reason. She is the most amazing cook. She makes her own jam and jelly, pickles, and just about anything else you could name completely from scratch, and she is an avid gardener, growing vegetables and the most diverse collection of herbs I have ever seen. Dill, basil, parsley, sage, rosemary, thyme.... I can't even remember them all. The salad we had on Friday night, filled with fresh vegetables and herbs from their backyard, was stunning. I wish I had taken a picture!

I have always known that she is an incomparable cook and gardener, but it was not until this year that I really began to appreciate how amazing my grandmother really is. She grew up in the Ukraine in the 1930s and escaped from the Soviet Union into Germany (on foot!) during World War II. That is where she met my grandfather, an American soldier, and married him in 1948. Just this year I discovered what an unbelievable journey it really was, because she typed out an 8-page recollection of her early life for all of us to read. She talks about her childhood, playing in the backyard of her grandparents' house, where there were sweet cherry trees, apricots, and one old apple tree, as well as red and black currant bushes, gooseberries and a strawberry patch. Her love of gardening was born during this idyllic time.

Grammy was 16 when the Germans invaded the Soviet Union, and during the next seven years of her life she endured hardships I can hardly conceptualize. She lived without heat or running water and scant access to food in a place where temperatures fell below -30*C in the winter, and worked jobs where the pay was a loaf of birdseed-bread once a week, to be shared with the rest of the family. All of this with soldiers fighting outside their home, bombs falling nearby and "civilians"- Jews- being rounded up for execution across the street. They hardly knew which side to root for, as they would be living under either Hitler or Stalin when it was all over.

It was in these conditions that the family decided to flee westward into Germany. They became refugees and walked to Western Ukraine, where they took a truck to Poland and then Germany. Grammy got a job working for the UN at the refugee camp where they ended up in Germany, and then met Grandpa, who brought her to the United States. They have been married over 60 years!

I can't help but be in awe of the strong, courageous person my grandmother is. I have always known her as my sweet, affectionate Grammy, who gives the biggest hugs and dotes on her four sons, eight grandchildren and three great grandchildren. To realize what incredible adversity she overcame at such a young age absolutely blows my mind and gives me some perspective on the trivial problems that stress me out every day. What are traffic and a slow computer next to walking 3 miles in the snow to work at a job that pays in bread, which is all your family will have to eat that week? They are indicative of the extravagant luxuries I take for granted every moment of my staggeringly privileged life.

I intended to write a post about the fantastic feast Grammy cooks up for Thanksgiving every year, and how once a year I break my personal ban on poultry for the extraordinary deliciousness of her stuffing and gravy. And her pecan pie!!!!!!!! I must remember to get that recipe.

But much more important is that I appreciate how lucky I am to have this amazing woman as my grandmother. Not only does she speak three languages and embody everything I could only hope to become, she was growing her own organic vegetables for DECADES before it became cool!

Here's to you, Grammy. I could not love you any more!