Laura and Mary Quarrel at Thanksgiving

As Thanksgiving day draws near again, I am reminded of an occurrence

of my childhood. To tell the truth, it is a yearly habit of mine to think

of it about this time and to smile at it once more.

Pa (Charles) Ingalls planted the four cottonwood trees, shown in the distance,

in 1880, when the Ingalls family homesteaded on the prairie in Dakota Territory,

near the town of De Smet, in what is today the state of South Dakota.

Father had laid in a supply of provisions for the winter, and among them

were salt meats; but for fresh meat we depended on Father's gun and the antelope

which fed in herds across the prairie. So we were quite excited, one day near

Thanksgiving, when Father hurried into the house for his gun and then away again

to try for a shot at a bleating flock of wild geese hurrying south.

We would have roast goose for Thanksgiving dinner!

"Roast goose and dressing seasoned with sage," said sister Mary.

"No, not sage! I don't like sage, and we won't have it in the dressing," I exclaimed.

Then we quarreled, sister Mary and I, she insisting that there should be sage

in the dressing, and I declaring there should not be sage in the dressing,

until Father returned-without the goose!

Mary Amelia Ingalls

(1865-1928)

Laura's older sister went blind

after an illness at the age of 14.

She later graduated from the Iowa College

for the Blind in Vinton, Iowa. 

Afterwards, she returned home to DeSmet

and lived with Pa and Ma.  Mary never

married and was actively involved with the

missionary societies at her church for many years.

She died at her younger sister Carrie's home in Keystone, South Dakota

and is buried in the Ingalls family plot in DeSmet.

I remember saying in a meek voice to sister Mary, "I wish I had let you have

the sage," and to this day when I think of it, I feel again just as I felt then and

realize how thankful I would have been for roast goose and dressing with sage

seasoning-with or without seasoning- I could have even gotten along without

the dressing.  Just plain roasted goose would have been plenty good enough.

This little happening has helped me to be properly thankful even though at

times the seasoning of blessings has not been just such as I would have chosen.

"I suppose I should be thankful for what we have, but I can't feel very

thankful when I have to pay $2.60 for a little flour and the price still going up,"

writes a friend, and in the same letter she says, "we are in our usual health."

The family are so used to good health that it is not even taken into consideration

as a cause of thanksgiving. We are so inclined to take for granted the 

 the blessings we possess and to look for something peculiar, 

some special good luck for which to be thankful.

I read a Thanksgiving story the other day in which a woman sent her little

boy out to walk around the block and look for something for which to be thankful.

One would think that the fact of his being able to walk around the block, and

that he had a mother to send him, would have been sufficient cause for

thankfulness. We are nearly afflicted with mental farsightedness and so

easily overlook the thing which is obvious and near.  There are our hands and

feet- who ever thinks of giving thanks for them, until indeed they, 

or the use of them are lost?

We usually accept them as a matter of course, without a thought, but a

year of being crippled has taught me the value of my feet and two perfectly

good feet are now among my dearest possessions.* Why, there is greater

occasion for thankfulness just in the unimpaired possession of one of the

five senses than there would be if someone left us a fortune.

Indeed, how could the value of one be reckoned?

When we have all five in good working condition, we surely need not

to make a search for anything else in order to feel that we should

give thanks to Whom thanks are due.

I once remarked upon how happy and cheerful a new acquaintance

seemed always to be, and the young man to whom I spoke replied,

"Oh, he's just glad that he is alive."

Upon inquiry, I learned that several years before, this man had been

seriously ill; that there had been no hope for his living, but to everyone's

surprise he had made a complete recovery, and since then he has

always been remarkably happy and cheerful.

"Laura and Mary Quarrel at Thanksgiving"

(November 1916)

Laura Ingalls Wilder

(1867-1957)

Prolific American author and pioneer girl

From the book, "Little House In The Ozarks"

A Laura Ingalls Wilder Sampler

The Rediscovered Writings

Edited by Stephen W. Hines

Guideposts Edition

(1991)

* Unfortunately her husband, Alamanzo, was somewhat crippled

in both feet following a stroke early on in their marriage.

He had become sick, had tried to get back to work too soon,

and had suffered the stroke.