By Ray Lenarcic
My fondest memories of Thanksgiving are from those halcyon days in the 1950s in my hometown of Little Falls. Memory Number One: Dinner at my Slovenian grandmother’s. Grandma never served turkey-couldn’t understand why so pretty a bird had to be slaughtered for a meal. Capons? Not so lucky. When we entered her house on West Main St., we were overwhelmed by smells of freshly baked potica and streukla-old country delights. The feast was beyond good and the conversation-well-since we couldn’t speak “Yugoslavian,” my mom, sister Diane and I had lots of time to catch up. As I write, I can still taste the potica-a nut-bread made in heaven- and hear Gram’s cautionary words-“Zimmy, no more, you get sick.” What a way to go!
Memory Number Two: Playing two-hand touch football in Furnace Street park. The game is a take off on the regular game-everything’s the same except you touch the ball carrier with two hands instead of tackling him. No hard tackle for two reasons: our mothers were sick and tired of having to buy new shirts and pants and no more serious injuries (e.g. thought I broke my leg one year playing “hard-tackle’). We’d choose up sides every time-no big kids agin the little ‘uns. More often than not, Gabby Bielejec and I were captains. Players were the same as our wiffle ball games-Bruddie Zysk, Dave Fitzgibbons, Bobby Eberle, his cuz from St. J’ville, Bobby Salvagni, Greg Beasley, Ron Wyjad, Bobby Mihevc, the Long bros-Tom and Richie, Urich bros-Gary and Cory, Al Koziol and the inimitable Joey Guiffre. Sorry if I missed any-an old man’s memory ain’t what it used to be. After the game, a trip to Fredrika Zysk’s store for a couple of root beer barrels (nickel) and then the long trek up Skinner St, fatigued but motivated by mom’s dinner of leftovers and another slice of homemade apple pie topped with fresh whipped cream (no cool whip, thanks).
Memory three; Parades. Back in those good ole days, there were parades the Saturday before Big Bird Day. The whole city turned out. Starting at Western Park and proceeding down Main Street, it featured something for everybody. In the late 50’s, I marched in the high school band, all decked out in my purple and white uniform (sorry West Canada-our colors first!), strutting like a peacock before my family members lining the street near Bride’s Pool Hall. For the teeny bops with the exploding hormones, there was Sonny Folmer and her fellow drum majorettes, faces perpetually smiling and batons a-twirling. The Military Band belted out one Sousa march after the other. It featured aging but still master musicians like Shammy Krchniak Sr. and Leo Potrikus and was accompanied by a constant round of applause. Boy Scouts, Girl Scouts, and veterans in uniforms two sizes too small added color and a solemn reverence to the event. If my faulty memory serves me right, there ain’t nothing like a small-town parade regardless of the occasion.
Memory Four: Church service at the First Baptist Church. No memory of Thanksgiving in the 50s would be complete without mentioning the church service at First Baptist featuring the Billy Graham or Cotton Mather, if you like, of the Mohawk Valley, the Reverend Fred Thorne. Unlike my guest appearance at Schuyler’s Methodist Church years ago where the entire front row of ladies had a sound sleep during my presentation, nobody slept during Reverend Thorne’s sermon. He surely didn’t need a mic. For me, his booming voice didn’t hold my attention, his words did. His preaching always had a moral. And his message was always reinforced by his saintly wife, Mary, my Sunday School teacher. I can still remember most of his Thanksgiving sermon-1957 or 58. Thanks-For-Giving. He emphasized with several examples the importance of giving back-be it helping an elderly neighbor negotiate the stairs, participating in a food drive or volunteering at the Red Cross. Do it for the sake of doing it, not for the thanks. Thanks came later on judgment day. Mrs. Thorne followed up his talk between then and Christmas by having us walk the walk-collecting good used clothing for local children in need. People often ask me why I’m involved with the Hunger Coalition and other community-service-oriented organizations (e.g. Roy Henry and the Herkimer Elks Lodge; Rudy Scialdo II’s Greater Herkimer Lions Club). The answer is simple. Rev Fred and Mary Thorne.
I wouldn’t exchange those days mentioned in the above for anything. Spending a lot of face time with friends taught us the value of real communication; by attending church weekly, we developed character traits that shaped us into the persons we are today; and the hours spent reading real books gave us a lifelong appreciation for the written word. No sir, those were the days my friend, and thanks to the memories, they never end. Happy Thanksgiving to you all-especially those who have helped the Coalition achieve its objectives in 2023. From us all-Thanks For Giving!