Gratitude for Memories

A Thanksgiving at Grandpa’s Farm with Aunt Ruth, my mom, Cousin Dick, Grandpa, Cousins Bill, Susie, Bruce, my brother Tom, and me - Dad taking the photo as usual. (Don’t you love my mom’s glasses?)

I’ve always loved Thanksgiving weekend. The ingathering of family and friends, the prescribed menu, the tryptophan-induced naps, watching the parade with the kids checking out flyers for Black Friday sales… all of it.

And this year, I’ve been reflecting on all of the changes I’ve experienced with the holiday over my ever-lengthening life – everything about it comforting.

We never actually experienced the Norman Rockwell image of the Thanksgiving meal, with all the dishes arrayed perfectly on the table and well-dressed people sitting still for the group photo. There was always a “Wait! I forgot the brussels sprouts!”, or a “Weren’t you going to bring the green bean casserole?”

My earliest memories were Thanksgiving at Grandpa’s farm with all of the Alleshouses. Too much food made it onto the table, the women did the dishes while the men went to the living room before rousing singing at the piano, with mom insisting on just one round of the Halleluiah chorus.

The middle years were with my mom’s family, usually at the Pcioneks. Those were louder and less musically so. Yet equally chaotic – still with the warm feeling, however.

There were a few lonely Thanksgivings where I felt too busy or had to pick which time to come home to my family. One was in Scottsbluff, Nebraska and one was at college in North Carolina. Those are the only two where I remember feeling sorry for myself and resolving to never, ever miss an opportunity to be with family over that long weekend.

Once I became the mom, I did everything I could to ensure my family could make it here for the long weekend, and that friends had a seat at the table. It turns out, the only critically important ingredient for a good Thanksgiving weekend is that – family and friends.

I used to think it wasn’t the holiday without turkey, stuffing, and the rest. It’s not that at all. I’ve done dozens of turkeys with stuffing in the bird and out. Mashed more potatoes than I care to count. We’ve had gourmet versions of recipes best followed from a soup can. And we’ve even ventured into other cuisines like Italian.

It doesn’t matter what the menu is, as long as it invites people to the table to gather. And this year, I’ll gather up memories of Thanksgivings past. Drop notes, even texts to family in other parts of the country. May even do a Zoom with a few.

And we will gather – with a few on Thanksgiving Day, more on Friday, then a few more on Saturday evening for the rare event of Hanukkah beginning the next day – an opportune celebration of “Thanksgivukkah”.

Whether it’s turkey and pies or latkes and dreidels, I wish all of you a warm, comforting weekend of making memories with family and friends.