Happy Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving. That totally American holiday of excess and lavish extravagence. But what a nice thought - to savor a day simply for the purpose of being thankful. It's such a nice idea that I put up with the lavish extravagence and even enjoy it completely to the last grain of rice and the last piece of stuffing.

I had the day off of work today because the nor'easter hitting the US east coast flooded the area around my place of work so they closed it, affecting DH too. So I spent today buying cloth napkins and placemats, too many groceries, and watching soaps. (DH spent the day pounding away on his laptop at the kitchen table, working from home. Apparently, he is much more dedicated than I am). I made cornbread to dry overnight for the stuffing, I made brownies for the kids tomorrow, and a pumpkin pie just finished baking. Tomorrow I'll put the turkey on the smoker, finish the sausage stuffing, make my mom's broccoli/rice/cheese casserole, prepare yams with apricots, finish the pumpkin bisque, heat the rolls, and start the blueberry and peach crisp to eat with vanilla ice cream afterwards. My friends are bringing a green salad, some surprise appetizer, an apple pie and fresh cranberry sauce. The wine rack is stocked, the juice box cabinet is stocked, and DH chopped a pile of firewood. We'll have time to get up late and watch the Macy's parade, eat french toast, and clean house (bleah) before folks start to come over. Nice.

I remember Thanksgivings at my grandparents houses so clearly. I remember the grown up table and the kids' table. I remember Nanny pulling out her silverware to eat with (which is why I asked if I could have it after she died). I remember walking around the block with my grandmother, mom and aunts after dinner, and playing on the concrete walls of a nearby shop. I remember my other grandmother's chocolate pies, which she always made for me. The top of her washing machine was always loaded with pies and cakes on Thanksgiving. I remember playing with my sisters and cousins in her spare bedroom after we ate. We'd transform the bed into a magic space ship, would shrink ourselves, and would travel through some poor unsuspecting soul's body, a la some TV show with that premise (Fantiasic Voyage?). I remember finding our way to the train tracks behind their property, and wandering for hours down the tracks. I especially remember one time that a train surprised us on a particularly treacherous stretch, leaving my sisters and me splayed out against bramble bushes as the train barreled by about 3 feet from us. (No doubt, my memories are a tad exaggerated, but they are what they are).

I remember making construction paper turkeys and cornucopias at school. I remember pilgrim hats and indian feathers. These days, I get the added bonus of the most amazing colors ever all around this time of year. I have new memories of Roxy bouncing down the street as she tries to catch leaves from the air and of my kids catching leaves in the cul-de-sac as they wait for the bus every morning. I have memories of warm fires and homework and books. I wonder what memories are striking enough that my kids will keep them until they are adults? Will they remember the dried leaf wreaths we made one year? Or the time we wrote what we were thankful for on slips of paper and made a game of guessing who wrote what? Hopefully, they'll come away with memories of love that cements a life. Our life is characterized by lots of guests and friends and laughing and sharing and the idea that life is meant to be lived with arms wide open and shared. I hope they remember that we were always ready to have someone else join us at our table at thanksgiving - that our house was filled with the loud noises of children behaving somewhat naughtily, of grown ups laughing so hard they had to sit down, and of hugs and smiles. That no matter what the weather outside, our home inside was filled with warmth and comfort and the knowledge that we are not on this journey alone.

Happy Thanksgiving to you all.