17-year-old Helena Muffly wrote exactly 100 years ago today:
Wednesday, November 27, 1912: Guess we aren’t going to have much of a Thanksgiving tomorrow cause Ma is sick and we haven’t got a turkey.
Her middle-aged granddaughter’s comments 100 years later:
Dang it—Thanksgiving was a week later in 1912 than it was in 2012.
From a blog post perspective, it works much better when the dates of holidays are the same for both years—and floating holidays like Easter and Thanksgiving are problematic.
This year Thanksgiving is history—and we’ve moved past Black Friday and Cyber Monday to holiday parties and decorating Christmas trees . But, on the off-chance that you’re willing to read about Thanksgiving at this late date, here is a lovely Thanksgiving poem that was in the November, 1912 issue of Farm Journal.
Our Thanksgiving Day
By Emma A. Lente
The harvests yielded bounteous store,
In spite of all our trembling fears
Lest this, from drought and storms, might be
One of the fruitless, barren years.
But kindly sun and rain and dew
Have ministered to all our need
The fertile earth has given full store
Her countless multitudes to feed.
No pestilence has stormed our shores,
No wars have racked our hearts with fears;
Strength have been given for minor ills
And smiles have followed transient tears.
So, let us render fervent thanks
For sheltering homes, and kindred dear,
And say with heartfelt gratitude:
“This year has been a goodly year.”