When I
was young, Thanksgiving was all about the food.
I have fleeting memories of some holiday dinners at my grandmother’s,
but most of my holiday food memories were at our house. My mother made a huge turkey, or at least it
looked huge to my young eyes, and we had stuffing, Mom’s special rolls,
cranberry sauce and other lovely things we didn’t have on normal days. We would sit down and eat, and it was always
phenomenal.
When I
was in college, Thanksgiving was all about the fun. I remember heading to my sister’s house in NJ
for Thanksgiving one year. There were
six college kids driving East with all our suitcases in a Pinto with no snow
tires. We got stuck in a blizzard in the
Poconos. Traffic was at an absolute
standstill. Parents actually let kids
out of the cars to make snow angels on the side of the road. How crazy that seems now in retrospect. We
spent Thanksgiving night sitting in a cold car. We finally got to an exit on Friday, and spend
that night sitting on maps on a gas station floor. I missed the holiday completely and arrived
in Red Bank on Saturday. My
brother-in-law drove down to fetch me, I spent the night at their house, then
flew back to Columbus. At the time I
thought it was a great adventure. Now I
think it was just nuts and
dangerous.
After I
got married, Thanksgiving was about doing my part for family Thanksgiving
dinners. I loved it. We would go to Mom’s for the event, but I
would cook the turkey and stuffing at home in a big electric roaster, and we
would take the cooked bird with us. Mom
would concentrate on all the fixings, the rolls, the pies, the green bean
casseroles, etc. I would set up shop
with my roaster and make gravy. My
father’s typical comment was, “the turkey is a little dry.” I’m not quite sure why he said that every
year, but I don’t remember him saying that to Mom when she made the bird. Perhaps it was to make her feel that no one
else could cook like she did. And no one
could. We had some pretty severe winters
back then. One time, the National Guard
had come out with road graders to clear the highways, and we drove slowly down
State Route 528, marveling at the walls of piled snow to either side, at least
8-10 feet high. We managed to get there
and the feast went on.
After
Mom and Dad sold the big house, Thanksgiving was about gathering together, and
we moved it around a bit. We had some
years when my brother and his wife hosted, some when my sister (who had moved
back to the area briefly) hosted. If
everyone made other plans, we sometimes had Thanksgiving with Jim’s side of the
family. But in all scenarios, I was the
one certainty, making and bringing the turkey and stuffing.
After
we built the new house, holidays came to us, and Thanksgiving became more about
being grateful. I no longer had to haul
the bird across the county (or counties), even though I had most of the
additional preparations to manage:
seating logistics, rolls, casseroles, pies, libations, etc. At least my oven was free for other baking
(love that electric roaster).
This
year will be different. My daughter and
her family will be the only ones joining us for dinner. My son will not be making the trip from NJ
this year with his crew. My brother and
his wife and son will be staying home by choice, but may stop by for pie later
on. My other brother and my sister are far
away celebrating in their own way.
Somehow I think I will be missing Mom telling me I don’t chop my onions
right and Dad complaining that the turkey is a little dry. But they are celebrating Thanksgiving
together for the first time since 1997, and I am thankful for that and happy
for them in a wistful sort of way.
And now
it’s time to head downstairs. There are
pies to bake, a turkey to stuff, a casserole to experiment with, and other
things that need doing. When the eight
of us sit down, I will offer up my prayer of thanks that we are lucky enough to
gather and do this one more year, because there are so many who don’t have that
opportunity and don’t know the joy of celebrating in a warm house with good
food surrounded by family. When dinner
is said and done, we’ll clean it all up and prepare for our first Black Friday
Potluck. For all the angst and prep, I am
grateful for that as well. Having all
the family on my husband’s side gather for a joyous occasion is a thing of
beauty, even if it is at my house!
Happy Thanksgiving!
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