November 27, 2024 • 9 mins
On this episode of Our American Stories, when Iowa listener Joy Neal Kidney's church took in refugees from war torn Bosnia, her family took it upon themselves to provide one of the families in the group with their first American Thanksgiving.
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Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:21):
And we returned to our American stories and all show long,
we're celebrating Thanksgiving. Up next, a story from our regular
contributor joy Neil Kidney on an unforgettable Thanksgiving with Bosni
and refugees. Take it away, Joy, Joy.
Speaker 2 (00:43):
How long do you cook a turkey? Eleven year old
Janella called the evening before Thanksgiving several years ago. It
depends on how much it weighs? Well, how do I
weigh it? Chuck the bag it came in, It'll tell you,
I told her is a thought yet not yet? What
I've gotten water in the sink. Mom works tomorrow on
(01:07):
the holiday. But we've just got to have a real
Thanksgiving turkey dinner. What else are you having? You know, stuffing, gravy?
What shall I have Dad get at the store? I
listed onions, celery, and chicken broth. Oh, we need pumpkin
pie too. I'm going to eat some even if no
(01:29):
one else does. It's traditional. Why don't you just have
your dad get one of the store and get some
cool whip too. Oh, be sure to put the turkey
in the refrigerator overnight to be safe. Janela had arrived
in Iowa as a Darling dark eyed two year old
(01:51):
with her parents sawmyr in Slaka, came to our church
in Iowa with other Bosnian war refugees for English classes
as of her parents' work schedules. I eventually became Janella's
band and drama grandma, getting her to practices, concerts, and plays.
(02:11):
That night, I worried about Janella's turkey getting thought in time,
and whether she'd even figure out how long to cook it.
So Thanksgiving morning, my husband and I headed to their
condo to check on things. The turkey had thawed nicely
and Janella had located the pop up thermometer on it.
We set to work making a timetable when to put
(02:32):
the turkey in the oven, the stuffing casserole, when to
make gravy. She got busy chopping celery and onions, making
cubes of some of her mother's chewy homemade Bosnian bread.
She suspiciously sniffed the spices. Joy, this smells like Thanksgiving.
Can you and guys stay for my first turkey? Please? Please?
(02:57):
Samaran's guy, we're visiting in front of the TV. When
Sa Mayor learned that our family dinner wouldn't be until
the day after Thanksgiving, he said come come have American
Thanksgiving with us. So we did, but we came home first.
I rustled up ingredients for mashed potatoes, scalloped corn, and
(03:20):
a salad. By the time we arrived with our contributions,
their condo smelled wonderful, just like Thanksgiving. Zlaka was home
from work helping her daughter find a bowl for the gravy.
When her feast was ready, Janella called everyone to the table.
Two younger brothers had to tear themselves away from a
(03:42):
video game. You made this, kidded her father. This is good. Yep,
my very first turkey. What is this? He was skeptical
about the scalloped corn, corn crackers, and eggs. Oh, it's good,
you teach China. Ah, this okay for next year. Don't
(04:03):
forget to save room for pumpkin pie. Janella reminded us
it's traditional. She was the only one in her fifth
grade who had fixed her family's Thanksgiving meal. Since that
first one, she has always roasted the jurkey. Back in
those days, she planned to go into some kind of medicine,
maybe nursing, but her junior year in high school she
(04:25):
took a culinary class. She was hooked throughout her senior year,
she took classes at the local community college and worked
in a restaurant. She graduated from culinary classes and was
hired full time by her former employer and has been
working steadily ever since. Soon this little chef fixed the
(04:46):
whole Thanksgiving feast for her extended family aunts, uncles, cousins,
even grandparents who have also immigrated here. Thanksgipping dinner has
always been Janella's American specialty ever since fifth grade. A
(05:07):
couple of years later, Thanksgiving dinner was at Janella's aunt Georgia's.
She's an Iowa girl who married Janella's uncle Omir. In fact,
Olmer's parents, who were about my age, were visiting that
year from Bosnia, so Aunt Georgia was in charge of turkey, potatoes,
and a dessert. Says Janella loved fixing the turkey she
(05:29):
helped at George's house. I invited her younger brother Ottis
to my place to help make pumpkin pie and other
side dishes. He was born in Iowa. When his parents
had been here just over a year, they'd asked if
I would accompany Zlatka through labor and delivery to help
with English. So I did. He was the first birth
(05:50):
I ever witnessed. After Ottus started school, I sort of
became his cub scout's grandma. We made cakes together for fundraisers,
a ladybug, one that looked like a cheeseburger, and even
a prize winning alligator. We'd always decorated them in his condo,
so this was the first time we'd cooked at my place.
(06:14):
I had him crack four eggs into a large bowl
and started to hand him a whisk to beat them.
Then I remembered my son at that age years ago,
decided that an old fashioned egg beater would be more
fun for a ten year old boy. It was especially
when he was cranking away to flick off the dribbles,
(06:35):
flipping egg all over the counter. The thing our cleanup
rag was at the ready. He measured the sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg,
and cloves after sniffing each one, just like my son
used to. Ottis liked the cinnamon. Next came stirring while
I opened cans of pumpkin and evaporated milk. He scraped
(06:56):
the pumpkin into the eggs. I poured in the first
can of milk, but he wanted to do the second
one himself. When all was mixed. He ladled it into
two pie shells while I explained what custard is and
the pumpkin pie is one kind of custard. I carried
the filled pie shells on a cookie sheet to the stove.
(07:17):
The oven wasn't quite hot enough, so I parked the
pies and turned around to do some counter clean up.
There sat the bowl of the nicely combined sugar and spices.
I laughed, Oh dear, we forgot the spices. Now what
I just stirred into the pies? Ottis suggested. I ended
(07:38):
up pouring the pumpkin mix back into a large bowl,
leaving the sloppy edge on both pie shells. While Ottis
stirred in the spiced sugar. I wiped off what I
could from the edges of the dough with a paper towel.
Ladling had been too slow, I guess. This time Ottis
just halfed the big bowl and poured the filling into
(07:58):
the pie shells. By then the oven was ready. He
carefully carried the cookie sheet with the pies to the stove,
but he had me lifted into the hot oven. Our
pies are gonna look kind of ugly, I said, Ah,
that tastes good anyway, those brown eyes twinkled. That was
nice of him, especially since Bosnians hadn't gotten used to
(08:21):
the taste of pumpkin pie. I knew he wouldn't need
any one hour to bake, a couple of hours to cool.
We still had scallop corn stuffing and green bean casserole
to make. Ottus crushed crackers for the corn. I like
my corn plan, he admitted, Oh, well, he'd at least
(08:45):
enjoy Aunt George's mashed potatoes and gravy. I showed him
the checklist of what all we were having for the
feast and which relative was bringing what food, such as
his mother's Bosnian bread. Indeed, Ottis didn't eat one single
thing that he had helped make for the festivities, and
(09:06):
his Bosnian and grandmother couldn't quite make herself taste the
turkey or the pumpkin pie. Georgia had roast beef in
the slow cooker just in case, but his grandfather ate
some of everything and went back for seconds. It was
an interesting day with a mix of immigrants, Iowans and
descendants of Mayflower pilgrims sharing an American Thanksgiving. When I
(09:30):
got home, I jotted potato chips on the next year's
Thanksgiving list and added the Bringer's name right next to it.
Speaker 3 (09:38):
Otis and a special thanks to Monty for producing the
Peace and special thanks also to joy Neil Kidney, a
beautiful story about immigration, about America, and about love. Here
on our American Stories
And we returned to our American stories and all show long,
we're celebrating Thanksgiving. Up next, a story from our regular
contributor joy Neil Kidney on an unforgettable Thanksgiving with Bosni
and refugees. Take it away, Joy, Joy.
Speaker 2 (00:43):
How long do you cook a turkey? Eleven year old
Janella called the evening before Thanksgiving several years ago. It
depends on how much it weighs? Well, how do I
weigh it? Chuck the bag it came in, It'll tell you,
I told her is a thought yet not yet? What
I've gotten water in the sink. Mom works tomorrow on
(01:07):
the holiday. But we've just got to have a real
Thanksgiving turkey dinner. What else are you having? You know, stuffing, gravy?
What shall I have Dad get at the store? I
listed onions, celery, and chicken broth. Oh, we need pumpkin
pie too. I'm going to eat some even if no
(01:29):
one else does. It's traditional. Why don't you just have
your dad get one of the store and get some
cool whip too. Oh, be sure to put the turkey
in the refrigerator overnight to be safe. Janela had arrived
in Iowa as a Darling dark eyed two year old
(01:51):
with her parents sawmyr in Slaka, came to our church
in Iowa with other Bosnian war refugees for English classes
as of her parents' work schedules. I eventually became Janella's
band and drama grandma, getting her to practices, concerts, and plays.
(02:11):
That night, I worried about Janella's turkey getting thought in time,
and whether she'd even figure out how long to cook it.
So Thanksgiving morning, my husband and I headed to their
condo to check on things. The turkey had thawed nicely
and Janella had located the pop up thermometer on it.
We set to work making a timetable when to put
(02:32):
the turkey in the oven, the stuffing casserole, when to
make gravy. She got busy chopping celery and onions, making
cubes of some of her mother's chewy homemade Bosnian bread.
She suspiciously sniffed the spices. Joy, this smells like Thanksgiving.
Can you and guys stay for my first turkey? Please? Please?
(02:57):
Samaran's guy, we're visiting in front of the TV. When
Sa Mayor learned that our family dinner wouldn't be until
the day after Thanksgiving, he said come come have American
Thanksgiving with us. So we did, but we came home first.
I rustled up ingredients for mashed potatoes, scalloped corn, and
(03:20):
a salad. By the time we arrived with our contributions,
their condo smelled wonderful, just like Thanksgiving. Zlaka was home
from work helping her daughter find a bowl for the gravy.
When her feast was ready, Janella called everyone to the table.
Two younger brothers had to tear themselves away from a
(03:42):
video game. You made this, kidded her father. This is good. Yep,
my very first turkey. What is this? He was skeptical
about the scalloped corn, corn crackers, and eggs. Oh, it's good,
you teach China. Ah, this okay for next year. Don't
(04:03):
forget to save room for pumpkin pie. Janella reminded us
it's traditional. She was the only one in her fifth
grade who had fixed her family's Thanksgiving meal. Since that
first one, she has always roasted the jurkey. Back in
those days, she planned to go into some kind of medicine,
maybe nursing, but her junior year in high school she
(04:25):
took a culinary class. She was hooked throughout her senior year,
she took classes at the local community college and worked
in a restaurant. She graduated from culinary classes and was
hired full time by her former employer and has been
working steadily ever since. Soon this little chef fixed the
(04:46):
whole Thanksgiving feast for her extended family aunts, uncles, cousins,
even grandparents who have also immigrated here. Thanksgipping dinner has
always been Janella's American specialty ever since fifth grade. A
(05:07):
couple of years later, Thanksgiving dinner was at Janella's aunt Georgia's.
She's an Iowa girl who married Janella's uncle Omir. In fact,
Olmer's parents, who were about my age, were visiting that
year from Bosnia, so Aunt Georgia was in charge of turkey, potatoes,
and a dessert. Says Janella loved fixing the turkey she
(05:29):
helped at George's house. I invited her younger brother Ottis
to my place to help make pumpkin pie and other
side dishes. He was born in Iowa. When his parents
had been here just over a year, they'd asked if
I would accompany Zlatka through labor and delivery to help
with English. So I did. He was the first birth
(05:50):
I ever witnessed. After Ottus started school, I sort of
became his cub scout's grandma. We made cakes together for fundraisers,
a ladybug, one that looked like a cheeseburger, and even
a prize winning alligator. We'd always decorated them in his condo,
so this was the first time we'd cooked at my place.
(06:14):
I had him crack four eggs into a large bowl
and started to hand him a whisk to beat them.
Then I remembered my son at that age years ago,
decided that an old fashioned egg beater would be more
fun for a ten year old boy. It was especially
when he was cranking away to flick off the dribbles,
(06:35):
flipping egg all over the counter. The thing our cleanup
rag was at the ready. He measured the sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg,
and cloves after sniffing each one, just like my son
used to. Ottis liked the cinnamon. Next came stirring while
I opened cans of pumpkin and evaporated milk. He scraped
(06:56):
the pumpkin into the eggs. I poured in the first
can of milk, but he wanted to do the second
one himself. When all was mixed. He ladled it into
two pie shells while I explained what custard is and
the pumpkin pie is one kind of custard. I carried
the filled pie shells on a cookie sheet to the stove.
(07:17):
The oven wasn't quite hot enough, so I parked the
pies and turned around to do some counter clean up.
There sat the bowl of the nicely combined sugar and spices.
I laughed, Oh dear, we forgot the spices. Now what
I just stirred into the pies? Ottis suggested. I ended
(07:38):
up pouring the pumpkin mix back into a large bowl,
leaving the sloppy edge on both pie shells. While Ottis
stirred in the spiced sugar. I wiped off what I
could from the edges of the dough with a paper towel.
Ladling had been too slow, I guess. This time Ottis
just halfed the big bowl and poured the filling into
(07:58):
the pie shells. By then the oven was ready. He
carefully carried the cookie sheet with the pies to the stove,
but he had me lifted into the hot oven. Our
pies are gonna look kind of ugly, I said, Ah,
that tastes good anyway, those brown eyes twinkled. That was
nice of him, especially since Bosnians hadn't gotten used to
(08:21):
the taste of pumpkin pie. I knew he wouldn't need
any one hour to bake, a couple of hours to cool.
We still had scallop corn stuffing and green bean casserole
to make. Ottus crushed crackers for the corn. I like
my corn plan, he admitted, Oh, well, he'd at least
(08:45):
enjoy Aunt George's mashed potatoes and gravy. I showed him
the checklist of what all we were having for the
feast and which relative was bringing what food, such as
his mother's Bosnian bread. Indeed, Ottis didn't eat one single
thing that he had helped make for the festivities, and
(09:06):
his Bosnian and grandmother couldn't quite make herself taste the
turkey or the pumpkin pie. Georgia had roast beef in
the slow cooker just in case, but his grandfather ate
some of everything and went back for seconds. It was
an interesting day with a mix of immigrants, Iowans and
descendants of Mayflower pilgrims sharing an American Thanksgiving. When I
(09:30):
got home, I jotted potato chips on the next year's
Thanksgiving list and added the Bringer's name right next to it.
Speaker 3 (09:38):
Otis and a special thanks to Monty for producing the
Peace and special thanks also to joy Neil Kidney, a
beautiful story about immigration, about America, and about love. Here
on our American Stories
Host
Lee Habeeb
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