It has been too many years to count since I had Thanksgiving with my siblings and extended family. My kids, who live on the East Coast presently, have created an incentive for us to travel to them during this holiday.
For me, this has been my personal favorite holiday over the years. I love the theme despite the changing attitudes in society about the relations between the early colonial Americans, i.e. the Pilgrims, and the first people who were living here. At the heart of the celebration, after the back story, is an opportunity to have a meal with your family, appreciating them for who they are and for taking the time to prepare a feast.
Making a feast for somebody is an act of celebration that seems to cross cultures. Whether it is to impress, thank, or share abundance, the idea of a feast is similar. I’m not professional sociologist but that’s my take.
Right now, I can see that I am in the hive. I have nothing great to contribute to the preparation but a lot is going-on around me. Cooking has never been my main talent. But I do appreciate all the effort. More than anything, I’m just happy to be hanging around. It feels good.
In the intervening years since my last visit during the holidays, our nuclear family has created its own traditions in the absence of our big family. I miss those people and those times a bit today. I miss the various “strays” that we have invited. I miss the warmth of my brother-in-law and nephew who have consistently been our local family and proximate stand-ins for my own family.
Our kids have known our traditions, and they are wonderful and enjoyable too. It is inevitable and part of the natural order of generations. This year, as I see my brother and sister-in-law ably step into the role of hosts. I can see that they have their own systems and process for getting this done today. It is different but similar to what I remember from my youth.
My mother was the one who got up early and cooked the turkey. She had a calm demeanor but still a little anxiety of having the job of cooking the turkey. As the family grew so did the size of the turkey. With a bigger turkey, you need a longer cooking time which meant earlier start time. Obvious to cooks but not to kids. I remember her drinking coffee and basting the bird as we prepared to go to the football game. That was a big deal. It was the final marching band performance and that seemed like a big deal to us.
I remember smelling turkey for hours or so it seemed. I remember being involved in some table setting, putting a leaf in the table, but little more. Perhaps my mother enjoyed her time alone with her turkey. Looking back on that, I think of the effort, but then I see the wisdom. Probably some of the most calm moments in her life as Mom were when she cooked that turkey. No kids and a little time alone to prepare the feast. I will never know but I can imagine that she felt good about it because she was taking care of us and for once it was quiet in the house.
Our team played its rival and the outcome was important. Despite that, I don’t remember the record so I guess it was a more ephemeral importance. But after the game, where it was often cold and crappy weather, we would head home to have turkey dinner. We always ate in the middle of the day, just as we are now. Grandma and Grandpa would come. My grandmother brought a dish that my sister will try and replicate today – more for the nostalgia and memory than the taste itself.
We finished a grand meal and before moving straight to dessert, I have a recollection of some kind of pause. The NFL would be on and the whole Thanksgiving theme would resonate with us. We would go outside and play for a bit or maybe watch the game. Then we would eventually have a pie fest. Seveal types of pies for those that didn’t like one or another. Before it was too dark, the day would be winding down. The dishes were washed in the pause and that’s probably the main reason for it.
This whole sequence was the foundation for my understanding of the holiday. However, over time, that did morph and the new sequence, in the new place, with the new people, has come to be the new norm. The games are over earlier. The sun is in a different place when sit down to eat and the grocery is open and often visited the day of Thanksgiving. The group is a bit more modest and the dishes are a bit different.
I love it all.
