When the brisk, warm winds increase their mighty gusts, at the same time that the unquestionable sound of autumn arrives — a hardened leaf that fell off a tree and hip hops along the pavement’s bare cement, creating a clickety-clack sound: October is here. It’s my favourite month. I fell in love with the year’s tenth month and that emotion only gently grabbed my heart tighter. Oh, sure. The colourful leaves and the anticipation of my favourite sport — hockey — settling in for another season.
But it was more. And it speaks to the unwavering group of people the David Foster Foundation helps … when they need it the most. Families. More to the point, families who have young, new members in need of an organ transplant.
Every Thanksgiving for over three decades our family celebrated the October long weekend in a red brick house built in 1915 by my great grandfather. It is in Meota, Saskatchewan, a good cup of coffee drive north of North Battleford. My second cousin, Walter, lived in the “brick house” for decades and farmed Tait land.
My father bought a piece of property, complete with a two-room house — built four years before the brick house. We shared our summers there. And always made the five-hour drive from Edmonton for Thanksgiving with Walter and his wife Mary and their three kids. Truth be told, in my selfish teenage years, I told my friends the only reason I was going to Meota was for the Thanksgiving feast.
And oh: how it was a feast. My mother, the best cook I will ever know, collaborated with Mary. Turkey. Ham. Mashed potatoes. Sweet potatoes. Stuffing. Gravy. My favourite salad with, what I call, “the small orange dealies” Caesar salad. Dinner rolls. And, of course, two pies. Pumpkin and lemon.
I always asked Dad if he could drive us ten minutes before we were supposed to be there so I could safely secure my place at the table. It was on the side where I could look out the big window. My eyes began on the freshly cut lawn in front of the house, then wandered out to the farmyard, with every piece of machinery valet parked. Then I looked west across the field, once the foundation of millions of sturdy straw strands, which were later cut and, then, gratefully, harvested. The field of stubble, waiting for the pulverizing winter wrath, leads my eyes to the west prairie sky: the sun slowly descending, leading towards perhaps the greatest gifts we have.
Tomorrow.
Before dinner, we all held hands. Each of us shared what we were thankful for. Over the years, those things changed and were a glorious sign of how each of our lives were getting richer with experiences from new people in our lives who became husbands and wives. Then, the gift of family manifested profoundly in front of us … for everyone to celebrate its boundless potential.
The Tait Thanksgiving Table on the Prairies can be compared to the families of the David Foster Foundation helping with financial assistance. Families of children needing organ transplants have their world turned upside down with so many unanswered daunting questions. Finances being one of the biggest stresses on a family, where they should focus all their attention to their child. I am thankful organizations like the David Foster Foundation exist to allow families to focus on their child and their transplant journey.
But families can set another place at the table for DFF: we assist such families with non-medical expenses … a Thanksgiving like no other.
From our family, Darren, Sara, Sheila, Nick, Chris and Matthew, to yours: a most colourful and meaningful Thanksgiving.
