March 11, 2025 • 9 mins
On this episode of Our American Stories, our regular contributor Lorna Jean shares the story of her first Christmas dinner without her dad—and the secret about turnips her mother carried with her for years to not break his heart.
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Episode Transcript
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Speaker 1 (00:10):
And we returned to our American stories and we love
telling stories of our listeners on this show. Up next
a story from our regular contributor and listener Lorna Jane Estelle. Today,
Lourna shares her story entitled love Will Turn Up. Let's
get into the story. Take it away, Laura.
Speaker 2 (00:35):
My mom was a master at putting on wondrous spreads.
At my family's holiday meals Thanksgiving and Christmas, we would
be privy to a feast fit for the finest of
royalty tender melt in your mouth, turkey stuffing, spice just right,
(00:57):
mashed potatoes, laced with ribs of golden butter, lumfrey gravy,
and of course turnips. We never had a holiday meal
without a feast of turnips. It was my dad's all
time favorite, and Mom never missed a special serving of
(01:18):
turnips from as early as I can remember till mom
and dad went into the retirement home. This was our
family tradition. But shortly after moving into the retirement home,
Dad passed away and Mom came to live with me.
(01:42):
It was the end of November when she arrived, so I,
being a serious Christmas fanatic, was already planning our first
Christmas together without my dad. I vowed to carry on
the family tradition and serve Mum a scrumptious Christmas dinner. Mom,
(02:05):
I explained, as we sat watching her favorite TV show,
Lawrence Welk one evening in late December. I want Christmas
to be special for the two of us this year.
I'm going to cook our traditional Christmas meal, just like
you always did. I'll cook a turkey breast and have
(02:25):
mashed potatoes and Dad's turnips and all the trimmings. Mom
nodded and smiled as she kept her eyes glued to
the TV, watching Bobby and Sissy waltz across the screen.
That would be lovely, Dear Mum was a lady. A
(02:46):
few words. Christmas Day came and Mum was seated patiently
at my dining room table, decorated with my red and
white patterned Christmas dish and a festive point set a tablecloth.
She smoothed out her teal patterned blouse and teal matching
(03:09):
pants as she quietly observed me fussing in the kitchen.
She'd worn her most favorite outfit for this momentous occasion,
one I had bought for her the Christmas before the
rich teal shade brought out the sparkle in her eyes
(03:29):
and the glow of her baby's soft cheeks. Meanwhile, I
was in the kitchen, red faced and sweating profusely, where
I had been most of the afternoon, frantically trying to
pull this dinner off while feeling about as frazzled as
a last minute shopper ten minutes before the stores were
(03:53):
to close on Christmas Eve. How does one juggle the
slicing of turkey, mashing the potatoes and turnips, stirring the
gravy so it is lump free and not burnt, and
keeping everything piping hot at exactly the same time I
(04:17):
had lived on my own most of my adult life.
Preparing the dinner meant punching a number into the microwave
and pressing start. I was way over my head, but
by the grace of God and a box of stovetop stuffing,
(04:37):
I managed to pull it off. Finally, with an air
of importance, I brought the steaming bowls of our Christmas
dinner to the table, careful to place the prize turnips
mashed and laden with butter, near her. I gave Mom
a peck on the cheek, told her I loved her,
(05:00):
and sat down ready to dig in. Mom surveyed the
feast in front of her and remarked glowingly, you've sure
done a nice job, Lorna. Let's eat. I'm as hungry
as a horse. Mom and I started to load our
(05:22):
plates up when I noticed she was not taking any turnips. Mom,
why aren't you having any turnips? Well, I don't like turnips, dear,
she replied, matter of factly, as if she were telling
me the weather. What do you mean you don't like turnips?
(05:43):
I sputtered, not believing what I had just heard. My
fork clattered onto the plate, shattering the festive mood.
Speaker 3 (05:54):
We've all eaten turnips at every holiday my whole life.
You never refuse used to eat them, and you never
told us you didn't like them. Mom's face softened and
she smiled as she revealed her life long secret. I
did it for your dad. He loved turnips, and I
(06:15):
loved him.
Speaker 2 (06:17):
Tears welled up as I thought of this simple love
story that had played out every holiday meal in secret
devotion and selflessness, unbeknownst to my brother and me, and
who knows, maybe even my dad. I looked at Mom
with new admiration and respect. Mom didn't ever have turnips
(06:42):
again that I was aware of. Dad was gone. The
turnips had served their noble purpose. As for me, I
love turnips and I continue the tradition of having turnips
at the holidays to honor my dad and Mom and
their love for each other. I always buy the biggest
(07:05):
turnip I can find, and although cutting it up into
chunks for boiling is far from my favorite job, I
think of Mom doing this over and over all those years,
probably with the same angst and dislike knowing this, I
try to chop each piece with a daughter's heart full
(07:29):
of love and gratitude for her parents. Every holiday I
witnessed a simple gift of love. You just never know
where love will turn up.
Speaker 1 (07:48):
And a terrific job on the production editing and storytelling
by our own Reagan Habib and Monty Montgomery, and a
terrific job also in a special thanks to Lorna Gestelle
for sharing this story about her mother and father and
a Christmas tradition that she learned a whole lot about
(08:09):
after her father had passed. We'd also like to thank
our regular contributor up on Kodiak Island in Alaska. Leslie
Leyland Fields for turning us on to this audio. Lorna
Jean is a writing student of hers, and what a
story we learned. Indeed, this was that first Christmas without
a loved one. We've all been there. This was without
(08:30):
Lorna Jean's dad, and she did everything she could to
prepare the very kind of dinner that her mom had prepared.
This was the daughters serving the mom and the daughter
loving the mom. And then it got time to eat
the turnips, and it turned out, well, Mom didn't want them.
Mom didn't even like them. And she said, why did
you eat them all those years? And she said, I
(08:51):
did it for your dad. He loved turnips, and I
loved him. And I looked at my mom she said,
with new admiration and respect. What a simple, simple sentence.
And if we all live that way, it would be
a better world. A special thanks to Lorna Gena Stell
her love story involving of all things turnips here on
(09:16):
our American Stories
And we returned to our American stories and we love
telling stories of our listeners on this show. Up next
a story from our regular contributor and listener Lorna Jane Estelle. Today,
Lourna shares her story entitled love Will Turn Up. Let's
get into the story. Take it away, Laura.
Speaker 2 (00:35):
My mom was a master at putting on wondrous spreads.
At my family's holiday meals Thanksgiving and Christmas, we would
be privy to a feast fit for the finest of
royalty tender melt in your mouth, turkey stuffing, spice just right,
(00:57):
mashed potatoes, laced with ribs of golden butter, lumfrey gravy,
and of course turnips. We never had a holiday meal
without a feast of turnips. It was my dad's all
time favorite, and Mom never missed a special serving of
(01:18):
turnips from as early as I can remember till mom
and dad went into the retirement home. This was our
family tradition. But shortly after moving into the retirement home,
Dad passed away and Mom came to live with me.
(01:42):
It was the end of November when she arrived, so I,
being a serious Christmas fanatic, was already planning our first
Christmas together without my dad. I vowed to carry on
the family tradition and serve Mum a scrumptious Christmas dinner. Mom,
(02:05):
I explained, as we sat watching her favorite TV show,
Lawrence Welk one evening in late December. I want Christmas
to be special for the two of us this year.
I'm going to cook our traditional Christmas meal, just like
you always did. I'll cook a turkey breast and have
(02:25):
mashed potatoes and Dad's turnips and all the trimmings. Mom
nodded and smiled as she kept her eyes glued to
the TV, watching Bobby and Sissy waltz across the screen.
That would be lovely, Dear Mum was a lady. A
(02:46):
few words. Christmas Day came and Mum was seated patiently
at my dining room table, decorated with my red and
white patterned Christmas dish and a festive point set a tablecloth.
She smoothed out her teal patterned blouse and teal matching
(03:09):
pants as she quietly observed me fussing in the kitchen.
She'd worn her most favorite outfit for this momentous occasion,
one I had bought for her the Christmas before the
rich teal shade brought out the sparkle in her eyes
(03:29):
and the glow of her baby's soft cheeks. Meanwhile, I
was in the kitchen, red faced and sweating profusely, where
I had been most of the afternoon, frantically trying to
pull this dinner off while feeling about as frazzled as
a last minute shopper ten minutes before the stores were
(03:53):
to close on Christmas Eve. How does one juggle the
slicing of turkey, mashing the potatoes and turnips, stirring the
gravy so it is lump free and not burnt, and
keeping everything piping hot at exactly the same time I
(04:17):
had lived on my own most of my adult life.
Preparing the dinner meant punching a number into the microwave
and pressing start. I was way over my head, but
by the grace of God and a box of stovetop stuffing,
(04:37):
I managed to pull it off. Finally, with an air
of importance, I brought the steaming bowls of our Christmas
dinner to the table, careful to place the prize turnips
mashed and laden with butter, near her. I gave Mom
a peck on the cheek, told her I loved her,
(05:00):
and sat down ready to dig in. Mom surveyed the
feast in front of her and remarked glowingly, you've sure
done a nice job, Lorna. Let's eat. I'm as hungry
as a horse. Mom and I started to load our
(05:22):
plates up when I noticed she was not taking any turnips. Mom,
why aren't you having any turnips? Well, I don't like turnips, dear,
she replied, matter of factly, as if she were telling
me the weather. What do you mean you don't like turnips?
(05:43):
I sputtered, not believing what I had just heard. My
fork clattered onto the plate, shattering the festive mood.
Speaker 3 (05:54):
We've all eaten turnips at every holiday my whole life.
You never refuse used to eat them, and you never
told us you didn't like them. Mom's face softened and
she smiled as she revealed her life long secret. I
did it for your dad. He loved turnips, and I
(06:15):
loved him.
Speaker 2 (06:17):
Tears welled up as I thought of this simple love
story that had played out every holiday meal in secret
devotion and selflessness, unbeknownst to my brother and me, and
who knows, maybe even my dad. I looked at Mom
with new admiration and respect. Mom didn't ever have turnips
(06:42):
again that I was aware of. Dad was gone. The
turnips had served their noble purpose. As for me, I
love turnips and I continue the tradition of having turnips
at the holidays to honor my dad and Mom and
their love for each other. I always buy the biggest
(07:05):
turnip I can find, and although cutting it up into
chunks for boiling is far from my favorite job, I
think of Mom doing this over and over all those years,
probably with the same angst and dislike knowing this, I
try to chop each piece with a daughter's heart full
(07:29):
of love and gratitude for her parents. Every holiday I
witnessed a simple gift of love. You just never know
where love will turn up.
Speaker 1 (07:48):
And a terrific job on the production editing and storytelling
by our own Reagan Habib and Monty Montgomery, and a
terrific job also in a special thanks to Lorna Gestelle
for sharing this story about her mother and father and
a Christmas tradition that she learned a whole lot about
(08:09):
after her father had passed. We'd also like to thank
our regular contributor up on Kodiak Island in Alaska. Leslie
Leyland Fields for turning us on to this audio. Lorna
Jean is a writing student of hers, and what a
story we learned. Indeed, this was that first Christmas without
a loved one. We've all been there. This was without
(08:30):
Lorna Jean's dad, and she did everything she could to
prepare the very kind of dinner that her mom had prepared.
This was the daughters serving the mom and the daughter
loving the mom. And then it got time to eat
the turnips, and it turned out, well, Mom didn't want them.
Mom didn't even like them. And she said, why did
you eat them all those years? And she said, I
(08:51):
did it for your dad. He loved turnips, and I
loved him. And I looked at my mom she said,
with new admiration and respect. What a simple, simple sentence.
And if we all live that way, it would be
a better world. A special thanks to Lorna Gena Stell
her love story involving of all things turnips here on
(09:16):
our American Stories
Host
Lee Habeeb
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