7 Layer Jello

Ah Thanksgiving. The first of the holiday dinners at Gramma's house. Well, not so much a dinner as a feast. There was more food and fellowship than the VFW on a Friday night.
When Gramma and Grampa still were on the farm, the kitchen was the gathering place. I remember walking in with Mom, Daddy and Big Sister and the women were all in the kitchen running around like a bunch of raped apes getting the dinner ready. The men were in the living room watching football. The kids were...everywhere. We pretty much ran around like a bunch of crazed lunatics, darting in between tall people legs, crawling under tables, upsetting kool aid glasses and trying to hug Gramma.
Gramma was awesome. She could mash potatoes, baste the turkey, cut a pie and hug 5 grandchildren all at once. She had more love in that one little hug and by God, you felt it!
I, of course, was in the heart of it all with the older cousins trying to snitch a taste here and there of the delights that were being put out on the table. I mean, who wouldn't? Pumpkin pie, lefse (sugared and non-sugared), cookies, salads and of course, the famous 7 Layer Jello made by Aunt Jean.
7 Layer Jello was an unbelievable confection of jiggle goodness. It was quite literally 7 full layers of jello. One with the clear coloured jello followed by a layer of whipped cream induced jello followed by clear coloured jello and so on and so on and so forth until it was 7 layers. She made it for Thanksgiving and Christmas every year. It was the epitome of the holiday season when 7 layer jello was involved.
You ate this jello layer by layer. Peeling each one off as carefully as possible to try and make it a full piece. It became a competition between cousins on whom could pull the first layer off successfully. The kudos went to the one who could successfully separate all 7 layers in full pieces.
I am not certain any of the adults paid close enough attention to our little competition but my cousin, Steve, got pretty good at it over the years. my cousin, Chad, would always open his mouth and stick out his tongue with his pumpkin pie. Yeah, that would send the other girls into gales of "gross! disgusting!" I would laugh and copy him. (My admiration for him would change after the whole ghosts in the graveyard incident.)
Thanksgiving was the entrance to the holiday season for my family. After a robust dinner and clean up, Gramma, Mom and the Aunts would chat in the kitchen over coffee and pie, the men would fall asleep watching the football game and the kids would just be...everywhere.