At Thanksgiving dinner this year, we talked about anything other than politics although all of us were Killer Hillary supporters. We talked about organic farming in prairie dogs communities and the effects of Baroque architecture on Patchogue Indian dwellings and then we came to the subject of who has the chicken hat? WTF?? Chicken hat?
When Lil Zen was in elementary school, she was asked to bring an item for a White Elephant sale at a school fair. My mother knitted a tea cozy that looked very like the one pictured above. She left it on the counter for Lil Zen to take home that afternoon. BUT…, my brother, Wyn, (a grown man at this time) wandered by it and for some unknown reason, picked it up and put it one his head like a hat. He roamed around the house, with the chicken on top bobby right and left, and he had a fine time with it. We all laughed our butts off. It never made it to the White Elephant sale, we sent something less remarkable but that chicken hat appeared under the Christmas tree that year as a Santa gift to one of us.
In talking about it at dinner, we could not remember who put it into rotation or who got it first, but every year (except one where it got lost in a closet), it appears under the tree for one of us. Whoever gets it is required to hand it on the next year. We can never remember who got it last year so it is always a surprise when it shows up.
We talked about it and laughed until we cried over how silly it looked on Wyn’s head, how hard mama worked on it, how my brother in law Ray will put anything on his head, and speculated on who might have it now and hoped he/she would remember to bring it out. This went of for a while; we had to explain it to a new member of the group. The my quiet sister spoke up, and said “Do not worry. I know where it is and will see that it gets here for the holiday.” I don’t know if she got it or if one of her daughter in laws did, but she let us know it was safe.
These little things are the foundation of our lives. The jokes we share, the love and closeness of family, even those not really related to us, they make up what makes us special. Your family has these silly traditions, they make no sense to others but make our memories sepia toned in retrospect. I still see my brother with the chicken on his head, laughing and healthy, my daughter as a 7 year old giggling at him, my mother and father watching. These memories stand the test of time and bring back those who have gone on ahead.
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Crimson Quillfeather alternate with
Tuesday ejoanna
Wednesday Pam from Calif
Thursday art ah zen
Friday FloridaSNMOM
Saturday bigjacbigjacbigjac
Sunday loggersbrat