Northport Nostalgia: Something to "Thank" About

Thanksgiving, Back in the Day

In the days of yore, Northport public schools taught us about Plymouth Rock, the Puritans, and the colonization of New England. For me, that would be 1950 through 1963...the formative years. Early on, in art class, we made paper turkeys, autumn leaves and adorned the classroom with brightly colored Thanksgiving scenes. What we actually learned about the founders, you could put in one of those funky little hats with the buckle on it, but what we took away, was a few days off from school. Yipeee!

Thanksgiving at home was often filled with the delightful aroma of a turkey in the oven, and the groaning board of stuffing, mashed potatoes (Dan Quayle, please check my spelling on this), cranberry sauce, string beans, gravy and the like.   There were however those obligatory times that we visited family in the city, more specifically 43 E. 78th St., home of my maternal aunt and uncle. 

Uncle "Fergy" as we called him, made alcohol consumption an art form and was most obnoxious at family gatherings. He lived his pitiful existence in a haze, not really drunk, and not really sober. To hear him tell it, he was light years ahead of the rest us and well ahead of the employment curve with a long history of job dismissal, the result of repeated on-the-job "self-expression." Today, he would be considered "not a team player."

At Thanksgiving dinner, we would sit down together at the traditional feast-of-plenty and give thanks for all of our blessings. That was the heartfelt message and the lesson that our parents tried to pass on to we kids. Uncle Fergy regarded this tradition as so much drivel and continued to assault the concept of Thanksgiving with insults and innuendo. Then there were the times that family from the city would come to us in Northport. The scenario was the same in reverse with the added guilt-trip that Uncle Fergy had made the sacrifice of riding the Long Island Railroad all the way to Northport. 

Looking back at all of this family dysfunction, it is a wonder that my brother and I ever emerged from childhood as whole people (the jury is still out on that). Needless to say, Thanksgiving as a child for me really boiled down to nothing more than a few days off from school. 

Thanksgiving, Present Day

I will now reveal my take on the true meaning of Thanksgiving, a lesson that took me 61 years to understand.

In 2007, at age 61, I suffered a significant stroke. I was on life-support and spent 14 days in a neurological ICU with a cumulative total of one month in-hospital time, a journey which included brain surgery and heart surgery. At the time, I was unable to sit up, eat, swallow, talk, or even breathe on my own. When I was released, my rehab and home health care stopped abruptly when the insurance ran out. To compound matters, my wife and I lost five income properties to the banks and she lost her job. 

I was unable to work and the stroke left me with debilitating physical deficits. I received no disability and had no financial recourse to any system whatsoever,
another adventure that had us living in a 23 foot travel trailer with our two
dogs for a month in February of the year. I'll desist on any more details, but
suffice to say, our situation would yet further deteriorate. 

At the time, I owned a .38 caliber handgun which I disposed of because, quite frankly, I couldn't trust myself. It was, without a doubt, the lowest point in my
life, but I learned through this "divine" test the true meaning of
Thanksgiving.

The Real Deal

My wife and my friends carried me through this whole debacle without so much as a grunt. The wishes, the cards, the money, the help, the caring...it all flowed like the headwaters of Niagara Falls. Prior to this awful sequence of events, I had no
idea just how many people cared about me. More than I'm entitled to, I know,
but I accept the gift graciously and count each blessing every day of my life. 

I know that in many ways, I am still without full physical function, and in finding my way back, I inadvertently came to realize the value of music therapy which helped me to recapture many of my motor skills. I sat in front of my computer for hours on end, singing and playing to the monitor, hitting all those bad notes and chords. Eventually it started to come together and in time we formed our own band, "The Antique Roadshow Band" which is comprised incidentally of all Northport High School alumni from waaaaay back. Click here to see a clip from our band at Ponte Vedra, FL in 2011.

Bass, Jessie Baker (my wife), Class of '66...harmonies...Judy Lund, Class of '63...lead, myself Class of '63 and rhythm.....Diana Lund Class of '61. We are all oldies playing oldies and life just doesn't get any better than this!

I can honestly say, I now understand the true meaning of Thanksgiving. And so, at Thanksgiving, I toast my wife and all of my friends and those who care about me for making life worth living. Cheers!