Mom doesn’t like to eat turkey. Maybe that’s why I only associate Thanksgiving with the big bird on the table in books and photographs. I remember Cornish hens, ham, and in recent years, the rotisserie chickens from the grocery store. There were different side dishes every year. We do have other food traditions, of course. Turkey just wasn’t part of it.
Maybe it was because Mom and Dad lived in so many different cultures while Dad was in the Air Force. Whatever the reason, we’ve had about as many different experiences on Thanksgiving as possible. I remember eating at my grown sibling’s homes when I was a kid. One year, I was alone with my sister for the holiday and we played Boggle most of the day. There was a year of lots of different faces around our table, more friends than family. Our family agrees that the most memorable meal was at Fort Sam Houston in San Antonio when we sat across from soldiers. The spread that year was incredible – duck, beef, ham, sausages, and, of course, turkey.
For most of the last 25 years, we traveled to Mom and Dad’s timeshare for Thanksgiving week. Lots of years we went to Villa Rica but sometimes we went to a beach. We’d plan our menu carefully so as to not have many leftovers since we’d likely be leaving the next day. I would bring a tablecloth and an item or two for the center piece. The rest would be “found” items: pinecones or seashells, maybe a plant from a local nursery. Dad would make pecan pie. There would always be sweet potato soufflé.
As Mom’s health declined, it became harder to travel with her. Three years ago, Dad and Mom and Julia started out in Villa Rica but came home after two days. We stayed home last year and are planning the same this year. The five members of the James Gang will come over and fill up a good bit of the table on the back porch. There will be ham, broccoli, sweet potatoes, and homemade rolls (thanks to my sweet friend, Anna.) Dad bought a cake from the Woodmen of the World bake sale last Saturday, a “Plantation Cake.” Hopefully we’ll have pecan pie. (Hint! Hint!)
Mom won’t know that it’s Thanksgiving but that won’t matter. The food won’t matter either. What will matter is that we’re together. Mary Chapin Carpenter says it well in her “Thanksgiving Song:”
Grateful for each hand we hold Gathered round this table.
From far and near we travel home, Blessed that we are able.
Grateful for this sheltered place With light in every window,
Saying welcome, welcome, share this feast Come in away from sorrow.
Father, mother, daughter, son, Neighbor, friend and friendless;
All together everyone in the gift of loving-kindness.
Since Michael has to work at the movie theater on Thursday, our traditions will change even more this year. We’ll eat dinner instead of lunch. Of course, we’ll still watch the Macy’s parade that morning while we’re in pajamas. We’ll still smell the ham and the potatoes cooking and feel the warmth of togetherness. And we’ll remember and be grateful.
We never know what’s ahead. Who will be able to gather next year. Let’s purposefully enjoy this year, these friends, this family. Let’s be very present in this season, not looking beyond this moment to the craziness of the December to come, but fully engaged in the Thanksgiving time that is.
Happy Thanksgiving to you.
