Memories of Thanksgiving Joys

Perhaps you, like me are making your grocery lists for Thanksgiving, or perhaps even preparing ahead and freezing a pumpkin pie or two. I have to say, I love Thanksgiving because the day centers around a meal and just being together. Of all holidays, Thanksgiving binds us all in an opportunity to enjoy the simple gifts of family and friends.

I remember so clearly Thanksgiving days from years past. I recall with such tenderness my mom with her plaid skirt and coordinating mock turtle-neck sweater standing in her small kitchen with a dish towel thrown over her shoulder. Her constant monitoring of all things turkey were hijacked by my brothers hovering, making her laugh to the point of being doubled over in hysterics. Meanwhile, my dad was sitting at the piano playing all the old songs. The turkey was inevitably overcooked and the Velveeta cheese blanket over the frozen cauliflower was barely melted, but we didn’t care. Those days, my mom’s Thanksgiving meal tasted like a warm blanket of comfort and sureness; despite her conviction that the secret to good gravy was potato water and corn starch.

There were so many of us squished around her dining room table that extended literally to the stairs which were often used as overflow seating. My mom never counted her guests with accuracy, so my sister and I would often share a seat on the inside center of the table backed up against the never used beverage cart. Believe me, there was no easy or accessible escape route. We were stuck. To this day, I seem to have inherited the same inability to count with accuracy the number of guests expected at our Thanksgiving gathering. More often than not, I count one too many which means there is always room for one more; which is a testament to my mom’s open arms and overall philosophy for any occasion she hosted. Now, I think about how tasteless that gravy was; still, it symbolized home and hearth and gratitude and family.

These days, we’ve become a bit more sophisticated. My husband has taken over the task of turkey and gravy preparation, and I can unequivocally report there’s no potato water added to the culinary creation of his rich and flavorsome gravy. Velveeta cheese has been replaced by bechamel sauce, and my sister’s mashed potatoes taste like the equivalent of gastronomic velvet in your mouth. Top it all off with my brother’s world famous vanilla cream pie and we have a communal feast worthy of gourmet status.

Make no mistake though, as important as the new version of gravy is, we still gather with the same spirit my mom instilled each and every Thanksgiving. In honor of her non-negotiable tradition, we still go around the table giving everyone the opportunity to share gratitude and appreciation for the past year. We share tears of joy and celebrate the resilience of overcoming whatever the past year brought to us. We reset our thankfulness for one another and arm ourselves with love and laughter which will no doubt continue to sustain us as we move forward.

It's the quiet of these days before the bustle of a busy kitchen that cause me to pause. I know many whose Thanksgiving table will be different this year; perhaps loss or grief accentuate the pain of an empty chair. Each year, I have to re-reconcile the hard truth of still missing those I love who are now lost. But, Thanksgiving provides a universal opportunity to remember the good times, the silly times, and the memories of family so deeply seeded in our hearts. For all of it, even the potato watered down gravy, I am so very thankful. Happy remembering everyone.