Last Thanksgiving?

I love Thanksgiving. It has long been my favorite holiday because of its simplicity, the blessing of calling people together, the simple activity of cooking together and sharing a meal, and the act of giving thanks together. Passover, which I learned to enjoy in my 30s, is a close second in its optimism and its celebration of freedom. It is also a lovely gathering of family and others around a specific meal, but …I don’t feel access to it in the same way. I wasn’t born into the tradition. We had a close friend nearby who would preside at our Passover table for several years in another state, but I rarely have a seat at the Passover table these days.

On Thanksgiving, I remember Grandma and Grandpa, aunts and uncles and cousins gathering in the late morning either at our home or my cousins. I remember the dates rolled in sugar that my father’s sister had on her table before the meal. I played with my cousins, Stephen, Kathy and Beth and my sister May. I soaked up some grandparent love and attention. We passed the time in these most pleasurable ways as Mom and Delphine focused on the extensive preparation of our elaborate and standard meal for a crowd on her fine china. This is one of the occasions where everyone would be called together to the living room, while we were waiting for the meal, so Dad could show off by standing on his hands and playing “Little Brown Jug” on his long abandoned violin. I remember Uncle Billy, a pastor, saying a Thanksgiving grace as the food steamed on the table before us and we impatiently waited to EAT!

As a parent, I took the lead in creating the holiday. Due to proximity, we usually had close friends rather than family join us, although sometimes my brother or sister would join the table. (I remember the year my younger daughter at the age of two absolutely would not keep her clothes on and she stood on her chair naked in the picture of us all at the table.) Although my children didn’t have cousins present, they had close friends. We did not possess fine china, but that was inconsequential to me. When we all sat down at the table, rather than listening to a prayer, we each took a turn giving thanks for the blessings of our lives before eating.

This is the tradition that my children were raised with and continue to facilitate, although an evolution has occurred. Now the cooking is shared by the generations. I still get the turkey into the oven and bring pie, but my son and daughter play their role, and my husband even made a pie this year. And now we start eating while the gratitude is shared around the table. I’m ok with that. I’m grateful to simply be there.

I told my children as they grew up that I wanted them to always come home for Thanksgiving when they grew up. The in-laws could have Christmas. This was successful for a long time, but now my older daughter is 3 hours away. She, her partner and my grown grandsons require flexibility away from “Over the River and Through the Woods to Grandmother’s House We Go.” So far my son has always come home, but the writing is on the wall, and I will have to travel in the future if I want to join a family table that includes my descendants. This morning I will go to my younger daughter’s house, about 30 minutes away, where she and her fiance will host the meal. My husband and stepson will be joining us (last year my ex-husband even came, which was nice).

My daughter and her husband-to-be will be moving to my son’s community next Summer, 8 hours away.

I have decided, while writing these words, that I will bring my fiddle to the Thanksgiving gathering today. I will call the memory of my father forth in words and by playing in my imperfect way “Little Brown Jug” before the meal. (I have only been “playing” for 2-3 months and it’s a very challenging instrument, I’ve discovered.) This is one small way I will feel that I can contribute to the passing on of the thread of family love …for my children and theirs.

There’s a plan for some of them to be here for Thanksgiving next year, but …I am unsure whether that will unfold. The future is uncertain. And I suppose I am letting go of this necessity to be at the table with them on this specific day. My oldest is 42, and so I have had a good long run.

Perhaps in the future we will join my brother-in-law’s table, although his wife has a large family. My husband is not inclined to travel hours to my family’s Thanksgiving. My beloved stepson and stepdaughter might be at our table, and possibly other friends – or we at theirs. I’m not ready to join the meal at the senior center, but I can see the blessing of simply arriving and chatting and sitting down to eat with friends. I do embrace change.

Expressing gratitude in community seems a blessed event to me. I am coming to terms with the changing shape of things. However I am not ready to stop. Perhaps I will try to incorporate giving thanks into some other gatherings. Or bring it to the table at home.

And …if my youngest daughter proves true in her intention to bring a couple of new humans into the world, I hope to be traveling to their table at this time of year in the future. Maybe by then I will be able to lure my husband too.