Thanksgiving Blessings to you and your family

Memories of Thanksgivings past come flowing back each and every year.

Nov 28, 2025

As I sit down with a plan to write some profound words on this special day of Thanksgiving, my heart and mind are overflowing with thoughts of all the ways that I have been abundantly blessed throughout my lifetime — and of all the events that have taken place over all those years — and I am finding it very hard to focus and get all those thoughts gathered together to share with you.

This is not a normal thing for me. I usually have something that I am totally focused on, and the words just flow. But not today.

Memories seem to come back, especially at Thanksgiving

For some reason, when Thanksgiving rolls around, I find myself looking back over the years, remembering Thanksgivings past and all of the people and events that shaped me into who I am today.

When I was young, my maternal grandparents lived in Twin Falls, and every year, we traveled the two-lane U.S. 30 from Caldwell along the Snake River through the towns of Mountain Home, Hammet, Glenns Ferry, King Hill and Bliss to our grandparents’ house that sat at an angle on the corner of Blue Lakes Blvd. and Addison Avenue — what the people of Twin Falls call “Five Points.”

It took a lot longer to get there then than today — Interstate 84 hadn’t been built yet and the road followed along the edge of the Snake River for many miles. We had to slow down as we traveled through all the towns along the way.

My grandmother’s house was always full of all the wonderful smells of Thanksgiving. She and my mom spent hours in the kitchen creating a feast of all of our favorites. Today, over six decades later, those favorites adorn our table at Thanksgiving, and the memories all come back and all the members of our family that we have lost are back with us at the table.

If we were lucky, it snowed… and while we very rarely had snow in Caldwell on Thanksgiving, we could almost always count on it in Twin Falls. My younger sister, Lorie, and I loved sitting on the big window seat looking out over that intersection watching the snow fall around big colored bells that were hung across the corner as people busily made their way toward and from the downtown. Even with all the cars and trucks going by, the snow brought a quiet — a peace.

As I lay in bed in the basement of my grandparents’ house after a day of intense excitement and great food, I could hear the laughter of my parents and grandparents above me as they sat around the table and played Pinochle. I would eventually fall asleep feeling fully at peace, believing that none of what I was experiencing in life would ever come to an end.

A dark holiday 62 years ago

Things changed on Friday, November 22, 1963 — less than a week before Thanksgiving when shots rang out in Dealey Plaza in Dallas, Texas and the President of the United States, John Fitzgerald Kennedy, was assassinated.

People were busily preparing for another holiday season — getting all the ingredients for their Thanksgiving feasts and out shopping for “just the right thing” to give their loved ones for Christmas. There were already beautiful lights up around town as families got ready to celebrate the birth of our Lord and Savior.

We had seen and heard about the conflict in Viet Nam, protests across the country and all the other horrible things going on around the world almost every day from Walter Cronkite on one of two black-and-white television channels.

But nothing prepared us for anything like this.

That Friday morning, we were all busy in Mrs. Murphy’s second grade class finishing up making our Thanksgiving decorations. I remember cutting a big turkey out of black construction paper and gluing it to a large piece of orange construction paper as one of the activities of that day.

Then, it happened. Our principal, Mr. Smitherman, spoke to us over the brand-new P.A. system that had been installed that fall at Lincoln School to tell us that President Kennedy had been shot. Shortly after that, he told us that the President had died at Parkland Hospital in Dallas, and that school was canceled for the rest of the day and we were to return to our homes.

I remember those moments, those hours, those days, like they were yesterday. Those images and the words of Walter Cronkite, with tears in his eyes announcing the death of our President are vivid memories.

Our lives were changed forever when this happened.

The innocence of our youth was gone in an instant. Yes, we had lived in a world of turmoil for as long as we could remember — but this was different. In my seven-year-old mind, I simply could not fathom that there was so much evil in the world.

A little over a year ago, I attended a conference in Dallas. I planned my trip so that I would have time to visit Dealey Plaza before I had to leave to come home.

The Book Depository at the corner of Elm and Houston Streets in Dallas, Texas

Looking down on the corner of Elm and Houston Streets where the Presidential motorcade made its left-hand turn, and where within a little over a block down Elm, a president would be shot and killed.

The Presidential limousine was at about the light post between the people on the right and the highway sign on Elm Street when the shots rang out.

It was like everything from that day had frozen in time. Other than the picture from the window in the Book Depository, I had been there before — albeit in black-and-white. Virtually nothing had changed.

Being there — visiting the museum in the old Book Depository, walking the route of the motorcade, standing at the place where Abraham Zapruder filmed the whole event on his 8mm camera, and wandering around the grassy knoll and the rest of the area was surreal. All the memories of November 22, 1963, the Thanksgiving and Christmas of that year were with me like it had just happened yesterday.

Thanksgiving in 1963 wasn’t the same, either, and would never be the same again.

Yes, the smells, the deliciousness of all the food, the love and togetherness of family were still there — but there was a dark cloud hanging over that Thanksgiving — and a realization in my young mind that all things are not bright and beautiful in the world we live in.

We have so much to be thankful for

I am so thankful to have the love of a soulmate who has shared life with me for nearly fifty years. Sylvia and I have had a wonderful, blessed life together.

Together, we have raised a wonderful family of three children who have blessed us with fifteen grandchildren and one great-grandchild. They all bring us great joy. We marvel at their achievements and cry with them when they have challenges.

Sadly, we can’t seem to get them all together at one place and time. But every year for the last several, we have gathered most of two of our kid’s families together for a late Christmas celebration in Pendleton, Oregon where we treat them to lunch and exchange gifts.

We are thankful that we still have my 96-year-old mother with us who gives us a direct connection to the past. We are thankful, too, that she can still get out and enjoy life like she did when we took her to a Meridian Orchestra concert where my sister, Lorie, is first chair cellist.

I am so thankful that the people of District 11 have entrusted me to represent them in the Idaho Legislature. It has been an honor working for them alongside many great friends who are fighting for faith, family and freedom for all Idahoans.

Lucas Cayler and I represent Idaho’s District 11 in the House and have become great friends who work together extremely well.

This is our “Gang of 8” — Representatives David Leavitt and Faye Thompson, Senator Christy Zito, me, Senator Glenneda Zuiderveld, Representatives Lucas Cayler and Clint Hostetler and Senator Josh Kohl. We are proud to represent our districts along with many other dedicated and hard-working legislators that we have the honor and privilege of working with. I am so thankful for each and every one of them and for the wonderful friendships we share together.

I’m thankful that Sylvia, all our family and I have no health challenges; that our kids all have great employment opportunities, have food on their tables, and all live in their own homes.

I’m very grateful that Sylvia and I were born to parents of the “Greatest Generation,” who taught us to take personal responsibility in everything we do, to be self-reliant, and to have a deep and abiding faith in God and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

I am so thankful that I was born and raised in the beautiful city of Caldwell, that Sylvia and I have lived in the same home for nearly 40 years, and that our children had the opportunity to be born and raised here as well.

We are grateful to have so many wonderful friends near and far who we dearly love and who make life enjoyable and just so much fun!

New traditions are a part of life

Growing up, we spent our Thanksgiving with my mother’s family. My dad’s mother passed away before I was born, so it was the four of us kids and my parents with them. After my grandfather retired, they moved to Caldwell, and we traveled the few blocks each year to carry on our traditions — complete with our favorite homemade dishes.

As we got married and started families of our own, those traditions that we had grown up with naturally changed. Our gatherings moved to my parents’ home with my grandparents coming there for Thanksgiving for the rest of their lives. We held our traditions close.

As our kids were growing up, we continued having our big feast at my parents’ house, then gradually began having it at our house with my parents coming here. My older sister and her family had settled in Renton, Washington and created traditions of their own. My younger sister has a family of three daughters and ten grandchildren, so other than the earlier years when her daughters were young, they, too, have created new traditions of their own.

After my father died in 2013, Sylvia and I began an entirely new tradition. With two of our children and their families living in different states, we began having our Thanksgiving at our church, inviting others outside our family who have no family to spend Thanksgiving with to join our family to give thanks and to share a meal. Those in our family who are able come to share Thanksgiving with us.

This year marks the twelfth Thanksgiving that we’ve shared this now not-so-new tradition with family, friends and neighbors in our community. Our son, two of our grandchildren and our great-grandchild were able to join us this year as we broke bread and thanked the Lord for all our blessings with about fifteen others.

And my mom was there — celebrating her 95th Thanksgiving with some of her family… enjoying the same dishes her mother had created so many years ago that began our family traditions.

So much has changed, yet so much remains the same.

I am so thankful and truly blessed to have so many wonderful memories that seem to come back in abundance for me on this holiday. I thank God for giving me such a great family to create those memories with.

I can’t think of an artist who embodied the American Spirit or the American Family quite like Norman Rockwell. I want to share one of my favorite works of his art with you… sending my very best wishes from my family to yours for a truly blessed and wonderful Thanksgiving!