On Thanksgiving Day, a couple of years ago, I made a side trip to Mechanics Cemetery on East State Street, on the way to Mom’s.

Mechanics Cemetery, Millsboro

One of my granddaughters had stayed overnight with me, so I took advantage of an early arrival in town to share some seasonal thoughts with her.  I told her how my grandmother Bessie Carey and I, and then later my father and I, had frequented the cemetery.  We would walk among the graves, noting the names and dates of those interred there and then we would reflect on the lives they had lived, and how each of them had touched our family.

Of particular significance on that occasion, I remarked to my granddaughter, was just how many Thanksgivings were represented there.  In one sweeping view of the monuments dotting our perspective, we were looking at almost 200 years of community history.  Before us lay the earthly remains of people who had lived, toiled, and contributed to the development of Millsboro, and celebrated many Thanksgivings there before us. Without their efforts, our community would not exist.

Many of those interred there celebrated only a few Thanksgivings. Without their sacrifices, we would have much less to celebrate.

Click here and read about a special Thanksgiving that took place during World War II.