Why do we adults begin conversations by asking, “How are you doin’?”
More than a few times, I’ve wondered why kids seldom greet me that way. In fact, I’ve not observed kids asking other kids. I’m reminded by our 3-year-old granddaughter that kids ask real questions that begin with “Why?”. That said, back in third-grade French class, I do recall one of the first expressions we learned was “Comment allez-vous.” Hummm.
The other day my brother, Jay, 11 years my younger who now lives in Denver, called and started our phone conversation with the questionable pleasantry. When I answered, “Hanging in there. How are YOU doing?”
Obviously listening, he replied, “’Hanging in there, too. That just seems to be the answer these days, doesn’t it?”
Our thoughts turned to the unifying subject of the dreaded pandemic. And we went on with family updates and tried to solve some of the world’s problems.
Afterward, I got to thinking that there’s really only one acceptable answer to “How are you?” Most of the time we don’t want to know beyond “Just fine.” We seldom have the time to listen for the true answer.
During my daily walks when I begin to pass an oncoming walker, “Hi. How are you doing?” is so often our shared greeting. And my answer, “Fine, thanks,” seems so plebian as we keep moving on our way.
Next time someone asks, I think I’ll say, “I’m grateful.”
Mitchell Thanksgiving Reunion is canceled
That grateful thought seemed even more appropriate on October 30 when members of our large extended family received a reply-all email from my cousin, Julie. She had the tough task of telling all of us who’d been sitting on the fence for a month that our annual Mitchell Family Thanksgiving Reunion would be canceled for the second year.
Since our move to Naperville in 1993, all except three Thanksgivings have included a 2.5-hour day trip to and from Ross Camp near Purdue in Lafayette, Indiana.
Those memorable gatherings brought together farmers, teachers, principals, healthcare professionals, accountants, a police officer, pharmacists, entrepreneurs, chefs, ministers, sales and marketing executives, engineers; all relatives who out of respect for my teetotaling grandfather never served alcoholic beverages at any of the reunions.
Thanksgiving reunions included catching up, playing cards and board games, creating holiday ornaments, working jigsaw puzzles, reading family histories, flipping through photo albums, enjoying too much delicious food, hiking in the woods, playing touch football and always observing how our large Mitchell clan has blended together since my grandparents began their family with nine children back in 1923.
Without the Ross Camp gathering last Thanksgiving, I spent the day going through photo files and making phone calls to folks who have touched my life for years. One call was to Uncle Phil, Julie’s dad and my mother’s youngest sibling, who has put together scrapbooks with wide spines to collect, connect and catalog photos and memorabilia that reflect the Mitchell family history.
Beginning in the late 1940s, all the descendants of the Gertrude and Paul Mitchell fit comfortably around the large dining room table in my grandparents’ farmhouse in Battle Ground, Indiana. And six of us grandchildren—one in my aunt’s lap and the rest of us sat at the kids’ table. A family photo of that Thanksgiving is in Uncle Phil’s album.
These days all the descendants total upwards of 110 which is why we celebrate at Ross Camp.
More than ever, those photos helped me appreciate the power of Thanksgiving with family, friends and neighbors.
“If the only prayer you said in your whole life were ‘thank you,’ that would be enough.”
–Meister Eckhart, German Philosopher (1260-1328)
May the grace of Thanksgiving greet you every day.
– Stephanie Penick, PN Publisher
