Thinking back on Thanksgivings of years past it occurs to me that this might be such a popular holiday not just for its family focus, but that it is a guaranteed four-day weekend. For some it’s even traditionally a five-day break. The America Automobile Association predicts highway travelers to increase by millions this time around. I’m sure that everyone thinks it’s just crazy to travel on this Wednesday whether by “planes, trains or automobiles” but most of us still do.

One year our Vermont relatives decided that they had suffered enough single digit temperatures (this was 35 years ago) and came to Chappy for the holiday. They apparently were recalling the summertime feel of the island. We had a cold snap. Ten degrees! Yet they insisted on going to the beach. The only lee shore that we could find was out at the gut. We tried skipping stones, but they froze to our mittens. Ironically, back in Vermont, a thaw of 40 degrees. The upside to being away was that they weren’t home to drive on their now muddy driveways which would have refrozen in deep ruts.

Another year our New Jersey relatives came. They had only been here in the summer months so were aghast when a three-day nor’easter blew in with inches of sleet. We kids braved the elements and trudged down to the wharf. The wind was howling. Someone got the brilliant idea that this would be an ideal time to fly a balsawood glider. The Paper Store sold them. We got one. For some reason, up on top of the wharf there was half a sheet of plywood. We wrestled it up against the railing and assembled the glider. Cousin John was elected to launch it. He pointed it in the direction of the lighthouse, we counted down and he quickly raised it above the plywood barrier to launch it. Unfortunately, he held on to it a split second too long. The gale tore the wings and rudder off and he was left holding just the stick of the fuselage. I can still see the balsa parts whisking down wind and disappearing over the ridge of the yacht club.

When I first started driving the Chappy Ferry, half a century ago, the Thanksgiving Day schedule was the same as Christmas Day. On call, on the hour. Of, course there were only a dozen year-round families back then.

Slightly less than a half century ago we began building a house on Chappy. Instead of paying rent for a nice cozy house in town we bought lumber and shingles. At Thanksgiving time, we were living in an uninsulated, wood stove heated, kerosene lit, unplumbed house with clear plastic stapled over the window openings. The senior Knights invited us to dinner with the rest of their offspring at their Cape Poge Bay cottage. Upon hearing of our situation, they offered us the use of the cottage until they returned at Christmas time and would have to close it up for the winter. Nice folks! I’ll tell you a trick that I learned from the Knight family. Don’t stack the dishes when you clear the table. That way you don’t have to wash the underside of the plates.