LETTERS: Thanksgivings past
To the Editor:
As I thought about Thanksgivings past lived out in Marion, the one which stays clearly in my mind was in 1952 or 1953.
I was the last Fred and Florence Hayen kid left at home. Brother Don was playing football at Parsons Junior College, had no car, so only made it home infrequently. We went down there to see him more than he came home. But it was Thanksgiving, and Don had called and told Mom he was hitchhiking home for the long weekend. Don was a professional hitchhiker. He could get more rides, safer and faster than any human who ever hitched a ride. It was a common mode of transportation for college kids in those days.
Thanksgiving eve, Wednesday, was a wintry day. It started to spit snow early in the day. By afternoon, we were in a raging blizzard. We must have gotten out of school early, because I was home early. Dad was walking his mail route and was running hours late.
Mom tried to call Don and tell him not to come, the storm was too intense. But he was already on the road. She worried all afternoon.
Finally, late afternoon, Mom and I drove the old Dodge downtown, slipping and sliding to Beaston's to get the turkey. Mom had Mr. Beaston cut one in half, a whole turkey was too much for four, I would guess.
We got back home and Mom fretted about Dad being late, and Don being missing on the road somewhere.
About 6 p.m. Dad made it home, half frozen but finished with the route. We just sat down to supper when I heard a noise on the front porch. Brother Don popped in the front door, looking no worse for wear than if he'd been sitting warm and toasty somewhere all day.
It turns out he had done just that. He caught a ride out of Parsons before the snow started down there, and that ride took him all the way to Florence. They followed a snow plow the last couple of hours or so. He had just gotten out of the car at Florence when a friend from Marion drove up, he jumped in the car, and they followed the plow on into Marion. The friend dropped him right at our doorstep!
It was quite a storm, but we were able to drive Don back to Parsons on Sunday, as I remember. Needless to say, it was a happy Thanksgiving in the Hayen house at 620 Hudson that year.
That half turkey was extra special! Enough remembering for now. Have a wonderful holiday season there in the old home town.
Jan Hayen
Parsons
