It was 1966, a year of personal uncertainty. My husband had just completed his training as a medic and was waiting for his orders to Vietnam. We had just celebrated our first anniversary. While I traveled with him during his training, I had gone home to New York while he waited in Manhattan, Kan. It was late in October when he called saying that it would be another six weeks and that I should get on a plane. He found a short-term rental apartment in the attic of a farm house. I went!
A trip to the local 5 & 10 cent store yielded sheets for the bed, towels and some other household items. Thanksgiving was approaching, and we were concerned as to how to celebrate. This was our first Thanksgiving as a married couple, and we were not going to let tradition suffer. But we had no family around and no time for developing friendships. We had to cling to each other.
I prepared the potatoes, yams and vegetables and baked the turkey in a frying pan. We used paper plates and had a pie for dessert.
Without a TV, we spent the long afternoon listening to the radio and playing board games. That night we were treated to a spectacular light show. There was a meteor shower, and in the dark sky of Kansas we ran from one window to another wishing on each shooting star.
We have just celebrated our 47th anniversary. If we’re lucky, we will gaze to a western Broward night sky and catch one more shooting star to wish upon.
Muriel Kroll, Pembroke Pines