Giving Thanks
When one thinks Thanksgiving, one’s first thought goes to the stomach. Turkey, green bean casserole, sweet potatoes, pecan pie? Unfortunately, I don’t like any of them. And yet—
Remembrances of Thanksgivings past. Way past.
Back in those olden days, my mother used to get up before dawn to put the turkey in the oven, covering it with cheesecloth. We’d wait for hours and hours, with the delicious smell of turkey floating throughout the house, especially prevalent when she basted it. Then, when the meal was finally ready, we’d all sit down in the dining room, instead of the kitchen. There were elegant place settings with linen napkins. My job was to say the Thanksgiving prayer, devoted to how grateful we should all be to live in the land of the free. Then we’d all gobble the food down within half an hour, with my mother wondering what it was all for and with my sister and I not looking forward to doing the dishes—we had no dishwasher.
Yet weren’t there all those delicious cold turkey sandwiches to come? And come—and come?
One year she decided enough, and we all went to a restaurant for Thanksgiving. Annoying. The food wasn’t anywhere near as good as my mother made it.
I can’t remember my first Thanksgiving with my husband. But I do remember my second because we had our little boy, the one I delighted in calling Benjy, a nickname he refused to acknowledge as soon as he realized it was dog-related.
I made a turkey that year. We have a picture of Benjy holding the drumstick with a smile on his face. Not that he ate from it. I’m sure it ended up on the floor. He was a great splatterer.
For many years I religiously made turkey for all our Thanksgivings and once even threw in a ham. I still remember when Benjy—now officially Ben—got married. It was to a good Southern girl, and he went to her house for the holidays. He called me to say, “Gee, Mom, I didn’t realize ham didn’t come pre-shaped out of a can.” Smart ass.
Why, you might be wondering, if I made all these turkeys and had the traditional meals, have I now foresworn them. Because I’ve discovered that turkey upsets my digestive system. As far as sweet potatoes—no. I don’t like potatoes, sweet or not. Believe me, I’ve had plenty. My mother’s idea of a balanced meal was potato, meat, vegetable. Yes, my father did end up with gout.
But of course, Thanksgiving isn’t only about food. It’s about parades and floats and football games. And—
It’s about the Pilgrims, who came to this country to practice religious freedom. Were they perfect? No. But now, because they weren’t perfect, we’re supposed to denigrate them. Well, I don’t. I will continue to believe that in the beginning the Pilgrims and the Native Americans got along. Is it a fairy tale? This one didn’t have a happy ending, but we can be thankful for the myth.
Thanksgiving is also a time to be thankful for the country in which we live. Even through these dark days, the promise remains.
But Thanksgiving is mostly important for family. Okay, yes, the trauma of family gatherings has to be considered. But think of the people you love, even if you can’t stand to be in the same room with them. They’ve made you who you are. In a way, you will never escape them because you carry them within you.
I feel that way about my family. Even when troublesome, they’re in my heart, and thoughts of them bring out the endorphins and a few tears.
Then I think about loss. Those who are no longer around the Thanksgiving table. My parents, my brother, my grandson.
Those of you who have read my thoughts before know about my grandson Ilan and the charity established in his name. 5 Purple Oranges seeks to give other children happy memories to cherish on Thanksgiving and every other day. It’s a charity that nourishes dreams and aspirations.
I hope all of you enjoy Thanksgiving, with no squabbles, that your teams win, and that you’ll be blessed during this coming holiday season. And—if you want to buy a gift for your loved one, check out the auction 5 Purple Oranges is having. And/or make a donation.
Is that too crass? I think not!